Shadow of the Banished
by Kirara-Elfkin
Summary: Ancient hatred, a lonely boy, budding friendship and impossible odds. The darkness is rising as the hunters become the hunted, and the past bears it's secrets for all the world to see... Finally Ch. 8 is up!
1. Forenote

AN: I must recommend that you read A Compendium of Remnant Knowledge if you haven't before, because it explains some of the basic concepts that this fic is built upon, like the different Remnant types and the differences between flesh and blood Remnants and normal animals and people. I know some of it isn't very well formatted for . I'll fix that eventually, but please bear with me for this, because without reading it you might not get some of the things I'll allude to later on, because I just couldn't find the room to add all those details into this fic. To make sure you don't get lost, I'll add a little 'list' of differences here.

Keep in mind this little 'overview' is **very** basic, and many details are better explained in the compendium. Here's a quick summary:

There are many 'wild' or unbound Remnants in this world, and they are considered highly dangerous as they hunt people for sustenance.

Mitra and animal type Remnants in this fic consume life energy (not souls but the day-to-day living essence/energy that the body produces) as well as 'normal' food, but they can't digest normal food if they're low on energy. To get that life energy they can feed off of people and monsters, though monsters have barely any compared to people.

Given enough time and rest that life energy can regenerate, so most unbound Remnants don't take it all when they feed, but some do, and this kills who they feed upon. Some old Remnants can even consume people in their entirety, bodies and all in an instant, but this is extremely rare, and only known to the Remnant 'community', not the other races.

When Remnants feed without killing this gives the victim a form of short term amnesia, wiping any memory of the last day or so from their mind, including the attack.

Remnants with animal or humanoid bodies can resist and even refuse to be bound, unlike those shaped like lifeless objects, such as the Valeria Heart.

Remnants have very acute senses, and they are always more sensitive to loud sounds and smells than the creature their bodies resemble.

They also have a sixth sense that allows them to sense other beings (and their emotions) beyond the range of normal senses, a sort of synaesthesia.

They can't use magic because the inherent energy within their bodies reacts very violently to magical power, and because of this magic has a much more harmful effect on them.

Their bodies are much more durable than any animal, with denser bones and extreme healing abilities. Poisons don't really work on them, and extremes of temperature don't really bother them, the composition of their bodies allowing them to adjust to almost any climate.

Silver put into their bodies can stop them from healing or using their powers properly, due to it disrupting the flow of energy in their bodies by being so highly conductive in nature.

They produce a special chemical in their mouths that can relax or even knock out a person in high enough doses, and it can be delivered through a bite or just a kiss.

Their blood shimmers with a golden hue in direct sunlight, due to specific particles in the blood.

Hopefully I haven't scared you off by now, so if you're still there the prologue is on the next page.


	2. Prologue

AN: The first couple of chapters should be up quite quickly, but due to the sheer length this is starting to become, other updates will be longer in coming.

Warnings: Blood, gore, child trauma.

Prologue

Falling into the dark clutches of the horror filled memory turned nightmare, the man once again became a little boy, and remembered…

Screaming.

It always began with his mother screaming.

But then, who wouldn't, seeing their husband butchered in front of them, his life blood draining away, coating skin and staining clothes, while inhuman eyes revelled in all the pain and fear, glowing with unholy glee.

Hidden under the floorboards of their small three room house, all the child could do was sit and shake, little body trembling as he listened to his family dying, bare inches above his head.

Hugging himself, he bit his lip to stop his own fearful cries, tears streaming down his face as he listened to sounds no child should hear, as the monstrosity turned it's attention to his sister. When the blood began to seep through the cracks between the floorboards, and drip on the boys tousled hair, it took all his willpower to contain his own cries of horror.

Shuffling from above, as sharply pointed feet dug into the wooden floor, moving away from the boy's hiding place, followed shortly by fresh screams, and the sound of tearing flesh.

After what seemed an eternity, the screaming died down into heart wrenching pleas for mercy, quickly becoming garbled, the words slurring together as they petered off into laboured, rattling breaths which lingered in the air, until the sounds from above stopped all together. Breathing suddenly seeming so much louder in the silence, the little boy couldn't stop the tiny whimper that escaped his lips, bloody as they were from being bitten so hard.

The stillness was broken, suddenly, by a sinister _shhhiiink_ sound, like blades being sharpened against one another, slow and repetitive, as pointed feet carried the creature that made it back towards the boy, until the feeble light from above was blocked out, the thick black shadow seeming to seep through the floor, bringing with it a terrifying chill.

Feeling his hysteria bubbling back to the surface, the boy let out an ear piercing shriek as sharp serrated claws tore through the wood above him, ripping it apart like paper.

Covering his head with his arms, the little boy screamed again as he felt those claws snatch at him, grabbing any part of him they could, sharp edges easily tearing through flimsy cloth and hooking into vulnerable skin to haul him into the light. Dropped carelessly onto the blood-slick floorboards, the boy scrabbled blindly, trying to get to his feet with shaking legs.

Half mad with fear, the young boy couldn't hold back a desperate sob when his knees gave out just as he made it to his feet, body making a wet slap as he landed in another puddle of blood. Feeling the red substance sticking to his skin, he shuddered, flesh crawling with instinctive distaste, bile creeping up his throat at the thick, cloying scent of blood and death that saturated the air.

Giving up his attempt to stand, strength deserting him, the boy just curled into a little ball, tears turning his vision into a messy blur of red, brown and… blue? Scrubbing away the tears, the little boy took in the scene again, a new spike of terror shooting up his spine as he stared at the murderer that took away his family.

Eight lidless red eyes looked right into his, filled with bloodlust and set in a narrow, pointed face. It had no visible nose, just a slight bump where one would go, and it's lipless mouth was a gaping, fang filled maw below. Flicking between those razor sharp points was a thin black tongue, tasting the air in a manner similar to a snake.

The monster looked almost like a giant spider, eight thin chitinous legs attached to a slender, rounded abdomen, a narrow thorax curving upwards in the parody of a human torso, it's comparatively small head perched on top of a short, stick-like neck.

Its two thin 'arms' were each tipped with three curved and serrated blade-like claws, stained bright red with drying blood. Oddly, it had shackles hanging from it's limbs and neck, short lengths of broken chain swinging freely when it moved.

It was smaller than he expected, barely five feet tall, but still bigger than the seven year old boy, its gleaming carapace a deep, navy blue. Tracing through the blue were red glowing lines, which looped and curled along its sides and down its legs.

Interspaced between those glowing lines were strange symbols that seemed to pulse with light, spelling out meanings that were totally beyond the boy's ability to ever understand, even if he were able to read them.

Scattered around it were the remains of the boy's family, almost unrecognisable aside from the scraps of clothing still clinging to the bloody lumps.

Looking back up into its face, the boy found himself frozen, those crimson eyes piercing straight through him. Sitting there, unable to move, the boy could hardly think straight, helpless and at the mercy of this monster. The animalistic bloodlust in those red eyes seemed to fade slightly, replaced by an almost human intelligence.

Looking from the boy to the corpses, the monster _sniggered_, a low, chittering laugh filled with malicious amusement, before speaking in a horribly distorted voice, each word clearly heard despite it's lack of lips. The sound it made was like a host of snarling demons, multiple demented voices speaking as one, sibilant, terrifying and utterly inhuman.

"_Poor little boy, all alone now. Sister gone, mother gone, big strong father gone too. All eaten up by the red eyed monster. No one left to dry your tears and tuck you into bed, just bloody rain and broken bonesss. No one to turn to, nowhere to hide."_

As it spoke, the monster started to circle him slowly, moving behind him and out of sight, the boy curled up as small as he could go, little sticky hands pressed against his ears to try and block out those horrible words. Though the words it spoke made fresh tears pool in his eyes and his heart spasm, it's actual voice physically hurt his ears, a thousand times worse than nails on a chalkboard.

"_I know you heard them screaming, yesss, you were right there under their feet as they bled out. Such delicious fear they felt. You know, fear makes the soul so much more palatable when it's eaten, sweet and succulent like honeyed wine and seasoned lamb…"_

Even though he didn't fully understand what it said, he could grasp that it was boasting about what it had done. Knowing this, the boy couldn't stay quiet any longer, grief and anger propelling him to his feet as he rounded on the sick creature, hands curled into small fists as he swung at it, shrieking denials through his tears.

He didn't even hit it once, for it swiftly sidestepped his clumsy charge and grabbed him by the throat, it's claws scoring deep lines that oozed blood as he choked, lashing out with his feet wildly.

"_Ah, sso much anger for such a little thing. But you don't hate, you don't even know what true hate iss."_

Drawing the boy close, the monster stared him dead in the eyes, as though studying his very soul. The thin black tongue flicked out and touched his face, once, twice, three times before withdrawing back into the jagged maw it called a mouth.

"_Yesss, I see. Be glad child, I think you'll be of more use to me alive, than as a paltry snack, despite the weak wretch that you are now. Ssay goodbye to the life that you knew, for you are mine now…"_

Staring up at the creature, the boy could only whimper as the symbols on it's body pulsed brightly, filling the small house with a bloody light. As the child's vision was consumed by red, he screamed as the light burned it's way into him, mind going blank as it all became too much for him to stand… and then the dream began to fade, everything becoming insubstantial as the man clawed his way desperately towards wakefulness.

Finally waking with a ragged gasp, he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, ignoring the bright morning sunshine blazing cheerfully through the floor length windows of his room. Flinging back the covers, the man cursed the lingering pain of the old scars that littered his body, and moved stiffly to the large ebony dresser, washbowl filled with fresh clean water.

After getting washed and dressed, in Balterosan silks for once rather than the more practical cured dragon hide and cotton clothing he usually favoured, the man went to his study to further prepare for the meeting that would see his plans begin to come to fruition.

After all these years, he would finally get the revenge he desired on those accursed beasts, and so much more, if the blind fools who he currently hosted would just agree to his idea, though naturally he wouldn't tell them the entirety of his plan, he would be signing his death warrant if he ever told anyone his true plan.

Lip curling in distaste at the thought of the men whose help he had to garner, he gathered up all the necessary paraphernalia he needed, checked the time, and stalked towards the meeting room, ordering a passing servant to send refreshments up to himself and his guests in an hours time.

Pausing just before he entered the room, he wiped his face clean of any remaining disgust, and prayed he could keep any hostilities between the two notoriously volatile men to a minimum. Had this been but a few years before, one of those men would have given his life in service to the other, but times had changed, and allegiances had shifted. Adopting a more professional air he opened the door and swept into the room, bowing to his guests as he greeted them.

"Welcome, Lord Hermeien, Duke Ghor. It is a privilege to have you as my guests this day…


	3. Three Years Later

AN: Hope you liked the prologue, but since I know you want to see what the other characters are going to be like in this, here's some Rush for you!

_Previously:_

_Had this been but a few years before, one of those men would have given his life in service to the other, but times had changed, and allegiances had shifted. Adopting a more professional air he opened the door and swept into the room, bowing to his guests as he greeted them._

"_Welcome, Lord Hermeien, Duke Ghor. It is a privilege to have you as my guests this day…_

(Three years later)

As the morning sun penetrated the thick mist of Darken forest, a shape stirred, woken by the change in light. The figure appeared to be a young man, with thick black hair, dark grey eyes, pale skin and a slim body. His clothes were of good quality, but worn and quite dirty.

The name he answered to was Rush, though very few actually knew him, and for good reason. Though he appeared to be only a mitra, the most widespread of the sentient races, he was actually something much different. He was a creature commonly referred to as a Remnant, a unique and highly dangerous species, which was infamous for it's diversity of form, having taken on nearly every shape under the sun.

Sitting up with a groan, the young Remnant rubbed the sleep from his eyes and surveyed the landscape from the thick bough of the towering zale tree he had spent the night in. Despite being early autumn, the trees of Darken forest were as green and lush as ever, ancient power keeping it in perpetual summer.

Stretching out his senses, he searched for the telltale brightness of :_light-warmth-emotion_: that signified a potential meal was in range, but all he found was the simple, instinct driven needs that came from the animals of the forest, and the ominous beacon of :_hunger-madness-age_: that was the Remnant Dead Heart.

Sure enough, looking down, he only saw a few leap frogs and a trio of sleepy echidnamoths, sunning themselves in the early morning light. The potential energy reward for hunting those creatures was slim at best, and right now he'd surely expend more energy than he'd gain catching them, as both species were notoriously aggressive when attacked.

His stomach grumbling discontentedly, the youth grasped one of the sturdy hanging vines that wrapped around the branch he was on, and slid most of the way to the ground, letting go and dropping the last twenty feet, landing easily on the uneven roots despite the height, which would have left a real mitra with at least one broken bone, his body much more durable than any creature of a similar size.

Skirting around the wary monsters, Rush went to the nearest forest pool, stripping off grubby clothes and staring at his reflection for a moment, before diving in head first. The freezing water took his breath away, chilling his skin as it closed over his head.

Coming up with a gasp at the icy water, he then proceeded to wash himself and his clothes as best he could, using the thick white fluid from the abundant soap plants scattered all over the forest floor.

Looking at the practically deserted forest around him while he scrubbed at the dirt on his skin, Rush found himself wishing for some company to alleviate the loneliness he felt.

The monsters were no company, they just ignored him, or attacked him, and the Remnant that inhabited this forest was certifiably insane, exerting it's power on any monster that wandered too close, controlling them like puppets and warping their bodies. Rush didn't even think it had noticed his presence, which he was rather glad of.

What Rush really wanted to do was just go home, back to the secret haven of Veyriel where he had grown up. He sighed, dismissing the thought from his mind, knowing the wish was futile, and continued scrubbing vigorously at his hair.

Lying naked on the spongy moss afterwards, the youth stared up at the towering trees surrounding him, wondering why he even came here in the first place. The "lesser beings" (as his relatives used to call them) were normally too afraid to venture into Darken forest. The ones who did were usually mercenaries, and even that wasn't often.

The only substantial food he'd had since arriving here was that old qsiti gladiator two weeks ago, and the power he'd needed to subdue the skilled fighter had drained a lot of the energy he'd had left. What was worse, the old man hadn't survived the feeding, putting even more guilt on Rush's shoulders.

A run of bad luck before that meant he'd been operating on very little energy for over a month, which had him at the very limit of his endurance. Sure, it was as far away from Veyriel as he could get without crossing the Great Sand Sea, but it was too isolated, with meals too few and far between and usually too skilled to subdue easily.

Pondering over the Remnant he'd spied on in the heart of the forest, he didn't know how that decidedly insane creature survived with no real food besides monsters, or other Remnants for company. Back in Veyriel such energy had been easy to come by, with no need to risk killing people for it, as the Star Mirror provided a plentiful supply.

The hidden community had been established centuries ago, on the stretch of uninhabited land east of Melphina, between the sea and the mountain range. It thrived due to the presence of the Star Mirror, a truly ancient artefact that had been in existence long before the Remnants had even appeared in the world, allowing the Remnants that lived there to exist without the need to consume people.

Veyriel had been home to many Remnants, both animal and humanoid in appearance. It had been a safe haven to raise their children, whose presence was a rarity due to their incredibly long lifespan and low birth rate. At any one time there had been around fifteen to twenty children of varying ages in the community, and while they weren't doted on, they had been cared for by all the adults.

For the young Remnants it had been a safe haven, free from most dangers and isolated from the outside world, with their elders there to teach and keep a watchful eye on them. Here, there was no one Rush could turn to, he had to rely on his own skills and power to survive.

Thinking of the events that caused him to leave Veyriel, he shivered in remembered fear. The screaming had haunted his dreams for weeks after his escape, and he still sometimes woke half expecting to see one of those terrible blood-soaked figures standing over him, eyes alight with blood lust as they prepared to snuff out his life, just like they had the other adolescent Remnants.

He wasn't even sure what they had been. They looked like people, some garbed entirely in black, others in more intricate white accented armour. The ones in black had even felt like normal people, but the magicks they wielded were frightening, incantations that sapped your strength and ensnared you with bonds of incredible strength, far different than the various spells the young ones had been told the other races used.

The figures in white had been different however, they had felt almost like Remnants, but their power was dark, sickly and unnatural, leaking out of their skin like a shadowy miasma. They had been the ones to kill the young Remnants, seeming to delight in the carnage they wrought.

The attack had been completely unexpected, too sudden to fight against, and the adult Remnants fell like wheat before the farmers scythe, weakened and bound before they could retaliate, helpless to stop the false Remnants from killing their young. Scared and practically defenceless against the strength of their foe, the young Remnants had scattered, fleeing for their lives, but it did no good.

As far as Rush knew, he was the only one who had escaped, for those monsters had killed or captured everyone else. Shuddering at the memory of how he had escaped, Rush shoved all those thoughts to the back of his mind, trying his best to ignore them.

Feeling slightly faint from hunger, Rush knew he couldn't stay here any longer, he'd have to find a more populated area to hunt in if he wanted to survive. Donning his wet clothes and drying them as best he could, the young Remnant made his way to the edge of the forest, the weaker monsters knowing to stay well out of his way.

Some time later, Rush found himself perched in the branches of a much smaller tree, its leaves a gorgeous golden red due to the progression of autumn, spying on the thin stream of people entering and leaving the sprawling city of Celapaleis.

Technically, he supposed he could sneak into the city and take someone to feed from, but if he were sensed by the Bound Remnant Umbermarici before he got out, the guards would be alerted and Umbermarici would probably attack him for hunting in it's territory.

That was something he wanted to avoid, for he wouldn't stand a chance against that kind of power, far too young to have developed the nigh indestructible quality of an adult Remnant, even though to the untrained eye his body looked nearly grown.

Besides that, he had very little experience at grabbing a potential meal in a busy city. He'd only recently developed his hunting skills, and still wasn't very confident hunting in a crowded setting. Besides that, smaller towns without a Remnant guardian usually had so few people that it was quickly noticed if one went missing, so he'd had to practice his skills on lone travellers, and people who had temporarily separated from their group.

At home the young Remnants weren't taught how to hunt until they were almost adults, and even then it was just so they could leave to explore the world without the risk of going hungry. As a result, Rush had possessed no hunting skills to start off with.

He'd even tried eating normal food for a few days after his escape, unable to think of the bright souls around him as food, despite the fact that he could feed from them without killing. However after he became so nauseous that he could barely see straight, he had to admit that he'd used up too much energy, and his body just couldn't handle solid food right now. He'd known he would have to start taking people to feed from, but he'd wanted to avoid having to do it for as long as possible.

Amongst the stories told in Veyriel, meant to act as warnings and cautionary tales, there were some that mentioned Remnants who had become addicted to the thrill of killing, inflicting gruesome deaths on anyone they caught, just for the pleasure it brought.

Rush never wanted to end up like that, it reminded him too much of the false Remnants, but as much as he hated the thought, it was a possibility, for every creature was capable of killing. He had a hard enough time dealing with the guilt of having to hunt people to satisfy the need to consume life, as all remnants had, and the accidental deaths he had already caused.

Fresh out of Veyriel, with the horror of all that carnage still at the forefront of his mind, he had tried to deny his hunger, even after he stopped eating solid food. Rush had unfortunately learned that he didn't have a choice, his initial refusal to take the energy he needed had brought him right to the edge of starvation.

In doing so, he'd triggered an ancient survival instinct. He completely lost control of his actions, forced to watch as his body acted of its own accord, and by the time he regained control, he was far from starving, and a small patrol near the Koenigsdorf bases had been wiped out completely.

Coming round after that had been terrible, he remembered everything that he'd done, and had barely escaped the nearby patrols who had heard the commotion. He'd slipped into minor shock shortly after he had found a safe place to hide, and cried himself to sleep for the next few nights.

The memories were very traumatic, but as a result of that mistake, he forced himself to eat fairly regularly after that, out of fear of it happening again, and learned to control the urge to take every last wisp of life energy from those he hunted.

His stomach gnawing at his insides, Rush watched enviously as a merchant caravan entered the city gates, five wagons laden down with fresh vegetables, fruit, and cured meats, the delicious smells awfully tempting to him. Unfortunately, his body just couldn't process it right now, especially not when he was this hungry.

Knowing it was too dangerous to hunt so close to the city, with so many people watching, he followed the road leading away from Celapaleis, spying on the travellers, looking for any stragglers or people on their own to snatch.

Due to a quirk of nature, the process of feeding caused short term memory loss in the victim, usually making them forget all about the attack. They would wake some hours later just feeling tired and confused.

A day and a half later, and more than halfway to Athlum, Rush was beginning to despair over ever finding a suitable person to ambush. They all seemed to travel in groups of three or more, which was too large a number to deal with when he was so weak.

Not to mention the regular patrols of soldiers from both cities that would comb the area directly around the road, chasing away or capturing any thieves or bandits that Rush might have been able to feed on. That also meant that he had to retreat from the road until they passed, or skirt around them to get to another stretch of the road that they'd already checked.

Finally spotting a lone mitran female in the distance, he sagged with relief. She was walking slowly along the edge of the road, near the tree line, and he unconsciously licked his lips as he crept closer, moving stealthily from tree to tree, finding a good vantage point to spy on her. Getting a proper look at her, he paused, assessing his potential victim.

She was quite young, with silvery blonde hair and pale skin. Her body was slim, but it was all compact muscle, so she was obviously a fighter, probably from a wealthy family. Her clothes and dual blades supported that theory, as she wore long padded leather boots and gloves, as well as intricate silvery armour, accented in black, with the occasional turquoise gemstone.

The ends of the thin gold chain that attached to the chest plate swung slightly with every step, the travellers' sack hanging off her shoulder mostly empty, maybe containing a bedroll and a change of clothes.

Studying her from above, he saw her shiver, either from the cold or the unseen eyes watching her. Pausing briefly, she pulled a thick fur lined cloak out of her sack, swinging it around her shoulders and fastening the clasp at her throat, but leaving the hood down.

Her youthful appearance and pretty face contradicted the aura of strength that she gave off, her gait the measured steps of an experienced warrior. Looking past her outward appearance, Rush could tell that she was strong, her energy a vibrant blue-silver, cool and alert, singing like a tempered steel blade to his senses.

The same strength that drew him to her, also made him wary, wondering for a brief moment if she was perhaps too strong for him to take. His hunger overrode that voice of caution however.

Moving further along the road, he dropped to the ground and located a suitable place to ambush her, waiting as the nearest group of travellers moved off round the bend up ahead. In his months away from Veyriel, he'd had to learn quickly how to attack and subdue all kinds of people, his instincts helping him to develop those skills.

After that disastrous loss of control at Koenigsdorf, he'd known he needed to learn how to hunt, without killing, if only to stop such a thing from happening again. His first attempts had only succeeded due to blind luck, nearly being caught several times, but he had improved.

Now, he'd become quite proficient at subduing people quickly, the whole attack over in moments if he was lucky, with the victim waking up later confused and tired, but very much alive and with no memory of the event.

Crouching in the bushes and slowly shrivelling ferns lining the road, he stayed as still and silent as possible, slipping into the mindset of a hunter. All senses fixed on the female, he waited impatiently as she approached his hiding place. The moment she was close enough, he moved, coiled leg muscles propelling him forward as he lunged, eyes fixed on his newest victim.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Can you guess who she is? It should be easy, she's a canon character after all. ^_~

Review please, with a cherry on top!


	4. A Remnant?

AN: _And_ here's the next exiting instalment! Cookies go out to **Mimic Shalle**, **Zico** and **Sorceress Nadira** for those wonderful reviews!

For those of you who wondered about the journey from Melphina to Darken forest, Rush actually bought some supplies in Melphina, though he didn't hang about there long. The Blue Elf didn't mind him there as long as he didn't hunt it's people. After he left he meandered across the countryside avoiding people until the encounter with the Koenigsdorf patrol, then stuck to more populated travel routes, practicing his hunting on weaker monsters before tackling people.

He isn't really bothered by cold or heat, and it'd be damn hard for him to catch a cold, so roughing it is relatively easy for him. The monsters mostly stayed away from him, and he them, unless he was deliberately hunting them. They'd be able to smell what he is… _which conjures interesting thoughts about any possible Sovani he comes across, doesn't it?_

_Previously_

_Crouching in the bushes and slowly shrivelling ferns lining the road, he stayed as still and silent as possible, slipping into the mindset of a hunter. All senses fixed on the female, he waited impatiently as she approached his hiding place. The moment she was close enough, he moved, coiled leg muscles propelling him forward as he lunged, eyes fixed on his newest victim._

He had been aiming to knock her legs out from under her and drag her into the bushes before the next group of travellers came, but that was not how it happened. A split second before he pounced, he saw the woman's energy flare with alarm, her body turning towards him. Somehow she had sensed his presence.

Instead of bringing the female down, he was sent head over heels back into the undergrowth, his own reversed momentum sending him skidding to a stop several meters away from the roadside, jaw on fire despite not being broken and a boot print on the side of his face.

Shocked as he was at this unexpected turn of events, he didn't move quickly enough to avoid a kick to the chest, causing him to flip onto his stomach, nor the steely grip that pinned him to the ground and secured his hands behind his back. Lifting his face from the soft earth, he caught a glimpse of the mitra female's discarded pack lying just a few feet away.

Groaning lightly as he realised what happened, he stiffened as the grip on his wrists tightened, the distinctive feel of a knee pressing hard onto the small of his back.

"Why did you attack me?"

An annoyed voice asked. Not waiting for an answer, his attacker continued.

"You're one of those young louts from Celapaleis, aren't you? I thought you had learned your lesson not to accost a Honeywell the last time you thought to mess with me. Taking a more aggressive approach won't get you what you want."

As she said this, his arms, still secured behind his back, were wrenched upwards, a move that would have dislocated them had he been a true mitra, but still had him hollering in pain none the less.

"OW! Stop trying to pull my arms off lady! I attacked you because I'm hungry, and you were on your own, alright?"

Feeling the punishing hold lessen, perhaps in sympathy, perhaps due to his apparent weakness, Rush none-the-less took the opportunity presented. With a thought, translucent green light flared beneath his skin, causing his captor to recoil with a cry of surprise.

Wrenching free, he turned and lunged at the woman, going for her exposed throat, outstretched hands enveloped in a flickering green glow. Rearing back, the woman pulled off her heavy fur cloak in a single movement and flung it at the young remnant, trying to temporarily blind him. Not expecting that, Rush got a face full of fur before he could dodge. Flinging it away, Rush saw the woman backing away from him, her expression telling him she was still a little off balance from his surprise attack.

Still feeling winded from the kick to his chest, he lunged at her, just fast enough to get a hold of the shocked woman before she could react, ploughing into her and bearing her to the ground, grabbing her shoulders and twisting so that he was on her back in a complete reversal of their pervious position. Holding her upper body down with one hand, the other darted towards the nearest patch of exposed skin, shimmering brightly with energy.

Before he could do much more than brush the bare skin of her neck, the woman produced a dagger from her sleeve with lightning speed and reaching back, slicing his forearm as she surged upwards and threw him off of her. Scrambling to his feet, he sucked a hissing breath between clenched teeth as he felt warm blood soak into his sleeve, the deep cut sending sharp jolts of pain up his arm, stinging as the cloth brushed against it.

Backing away quickly from the now defensive woman, he stopped some metres away, rolling up his sleeve to prevent the cloth from irritating the wound. Feeling the blood clotting and soft tissues knitting together already, he kept both eyes on the woman, watching as she stared disbelievingly at the rapidly closing gash, his blood shimmering with a golden hue in the dappled sunlight leaking through the branches above.

Silent and wary at this unexpected turn of events, he scrutinised the female with eyes transformed, the dark stormy grey overtaken by pale glowing green, the colour of newly cut peridot. He was looking for any sign that the paralysing energy was working. He couldn't be sure he'd put enough into her to work, the energy filled touch lasting barely a second, but he couldn't see any sign of muscle tremors or laboured breathing, both signs that it was taking effect.

Watching her face, cast in shadow by the trees above, he felt a brief twinge of guilt that was swiftly overshadowed by triumph as he saw her expression change, morphing from anger to confusion, and then the first signs of fear as her hand trembled minutely. It looked like she was starting to feel the effects of his attack, and now had a vague idea of the danger she was in, and that it wouldn't be as easily dealt with as adolescent boys chasing a crush.

It looked like securing this meal would be quite challenging, though not as impossible as it would be with her at full strength.

Seeing her start to edge backwards, Rush _moved_, the depleted power flowing beneath his skin allowing him to move a little faster than her eyes could follow, stopping between her and the road.

Why he hadn't thought of doing that in the first place, he didn't know.

Stifling a gasp, she leapt away from him, dropping her bloodstained dagger and unsheathing both her swords in a flash as she slid into a defensive stance. He could have gone for her again, but chose to wait until the full effects of his paralysing energy were being felt, not wanting to risk getting cut again.

The young Remnant tensed, eyes glowing dimly, watching the woman with quiet expectation. Sure enough, she tried to edge round him, brandishing both blades in an experienced grip. Careful to stay out of striking range, he blocked each attempt to get back to the safety of the busy road, relying on the mitra's natural sense of caution when dealing with an unknown threat, to stop her from doing anything drastic.

The minutes crawled by, Rush forcing her gradually deeper into the woods with feigned attacks, causing her to retreat steadily. Her fear grew as each attempt to get past him failed, slowly turning into the desperation of a cornered animal. He could tell she was starting to truly panic, her eyes giving away nothing, but her energy was roiling like a stormy sea, anxiety, fear and anger breaking against his senses like waves, the colour deepening to a dark steel blue as he watched.

Finally, her nerve snapped, and she lunged at him, swords gleaming in the light filtering through the tree tops. Dancing out of the way, Rush found himself having to use more power to avoid her blows, despite his energy slowly spreading through her system, as each swing of the dual swords was tightly controlled and extremely accurate.

Twisting around a whirling blow he got behind his uncooperative victim, hands darting straight for the exposed skin of her neck again to bring her down more quickly. Tantalisingly close to ending the fight and finally getting to eat, he had to snatch his hands back a hairsbreadth from her throat as she spun and lashed out with vicious speed. Dodging each furious attack, he found himself grudgingly admiring the control she was exhibiting, carefully banked anger the only emotion in her eyes, when anyone else in her situation would be a gibbering wreck.

Sometime during their fight, they ended up in a fairly large clearing, giving both of them more room to move. Despite the fact that Rush could now move more easily, the woman could also use more powerful attacks without having to worry about her surroundings, so both opponents stayed more or less equal.

Unable to move too far away from his target, lest she take the chance and bolt, Rush found himself mostly on the defensive, with few opportunities to strike. While trying to find an opening in her defences, his power began to falter, the last dregs of his energy being used up with each passing moment. Singing through the air, the elegant blades started to hit too close to home, the razor sharp edges tearing easily through his thick clothes.

Looking into that determined face, every curve and dip lit fully by the unobscured sun burning above, Rush was struck by a sudden painful reminder of the past, a different but also very similar face superimposing itself over the mitra female's, the determination and fear present on both faces only strengthening that impression.

The shape and colour of her eyes was identical to the person in his memory, the sharply pointed pixie-like chin and gently defined cheekbones also frighteningly similar. It shocked him that he hadn't seen it before now. Hunger evaporated in the face of this familiarity, his mind balking at the idea of continuing the attack.

Despite the feel of that deliciously strong life energy right in front of him, he retreated, leaping back and up, landing out of reach on a thick tree branch some ten feet above the forest floor. Clenching his muscles, he stilled the tremble of exhaustion he could now feel in his limbs, but unable to stop his body from panting, the fight proving a little too much for his taxed reserves.

"Enough, stop. You can go, I won't get in your way."

Eyes narrowed with suspicion and still tainted by fear, the woman didn't relax, but abandoned her aggressive posture for a defensive one, all her senses trained on the figure in the tree.

"Why should I believe you? You're clearly no mitra, despite appearances; your blood is too strange to belong to any normal creature, it almost shone gold in the sunlight. You're some kind of monster, though I've never encountered one that could talk before, or disguise itself as a mitra."

Scrutinising the crouching figure, she took in the thick mop of black hair, and how it's clothes, obviously well made but now tattered and dirty, hung off it's too thin body. Despite this illusion of weakness, she knew it was still dangerous from it's previous attack, and by the ease with which it jumped the ten feet from the ground to the branch where it now perched.

She blinked as her vision blurred slightly, a persistent tingle, like pins and needles slowly spreading through her neck, shoulders, and down into her chest, sapping her arms of strength and starting to constrict her airways, making breathing more difficult.

Despite these alarming feelings, she didn't show her discomfort, focusing on the more immediate danger the boy-creature presented. Hoping to buy more time to recover, she continued speaking, sure that if given the chance the strange monster would attack again.

"Going by what you said, you attacked me because you wanted food. You saw me drop my bag after you lunged at me, and when you got free you didn't take the opportunity to steal it. I wasn't carrying a coin purse in plain view either, so you weren't going for that when you attacked again. You also went straight for my throat whenever you had the opportunity. Considering that, there's only one conclusion I can come to. Being some sort of monster, in your eyes I AM food, and because I was alone you saw the chance for an easy kill. Forgive me, but I don't believe for one moment that you won't attack again when my back is turned. I don't trust a creature whose original intention was to make a meal out of me."

Flinching at her venomous tone, Rush wavered slightly, her use of the word 'monster' like a slap to the face. Feeling exhaustion nipping at his heels, he decided to try and convince her of his sincerity, wanting to end this confrontation as soon as possible, for he needed to get back to hunting for easier prey.

He also felt… compelled to talk to her, because her similarity to that person was making guilt rear its ugly head, reminding him that she thought he meant to kill her. Even though she had wounded him, he deserved it for letting his hunger push him into attacking the first person without companions. He should have known she'd be too strong to take without a fight. Deciding that truth was the best policy here, he spoke, trying to sound as honest as possible.

"You're right, I'm not a mitra, but that doesn't make me a monster. I'm… I'm a Remnant, but just as much a person as you are. I did mean to… _feed_ from you, but it would just have been some life energy, nothing a good rest wouldn't replace, and I wouldn't have killed you. I don't like killing when I can avoid it. So you wouldn't even be hurt, just woozy when you woke up afterwards. You'd never even remember it happening. Right now, you're too strong for me, I should've seen that. I haven't eaten in ages, so I was desperate."

Wincing at that last sentence, which sounded too much like an excuse to his ears, he missed the flicker of shock that crossed her face at his admittance to being a Remnant, and ploughed on.

"I failed this time, you're too skilled and I'm too weak right now. I won't go after you again, I swear. I might have tried if I had a death wish, but seeing as I want to reach adulthood in one piece, you're safe from me."

As Rush spoke, he felt his balance waver slightly, so he manoeuvred his body to sit on the branch he was crouching on, legs straddling the bough, back leaning against the main trunk of the tree. The move worked wonders, for he could relax out of reach of those blades, and it made his posture less aggressive, proven when he saw the woman's stance relax slightly, not even aware that she had done so.

Not quite sure why he was admitting to this, he spoke again, eyes focused on the leaves above his head rather than the woman below him, voice sounding quieter and more timid.

"I also stopped because you… remind me of someone I used to know. I didn't see it in the shadow of the trees, but the resemblance is kinda off-putting. It's sorta hard to attack someone who looks like they could be related to you… though, the similarity is also kinda interesting."

After saying that last part, he looked up at the mitra's face, cocking his head at an angle as he examined her, his eyes following the contours of her face and body, mapping the similarities and differences between her and the girl in his memory.

Meanwhile, the woman was feeling more than a little confused, her uneasiness turning to mild discomfort as the boy-creature stared at her, blatantly examining her. More so than his words, the emotions he conveyed confused her.

She'd never thought that Remnants (if that's what he truly was) would be that much different than other predatory creatures, except maybe a little more cunning. Though frankly, she didn't know that much about them in the first place, only that they were considered extremely dangerous and unpredictable.

In her travels, she had never actually met an unbound Remnant (though his comment about not remembering was making her wonder...) and none of the bound Remnants she _had_ seen had acted or looked anything like him. The resemblance to a mitra was astonishing, he really did look just like a half starved kid.

Another disquieting aspect, was that this creature was remarkably transparent with his emotions, showing them in his eyes and his voice. If it had just been his voice then she would have suspected he was tricking her, but his eyes displayed the same feelings, and it was almost impossible to lie with your eyes.

His stare was making her uncomfortable as well, the sweeping gaze reminiscent of the many male admirers she seemed to collect in most cities. However it was neither lustful, nor predatory. It was largely thoughtful, though there was pain there as well, which made her wonder what, or who he had lost.

In Rush's mind, there was a little war going on. One side, motivated by the hunger gnawing at his insides, was all for getting back to hunting, leaving the mitra to find her way back to the road and hopefully never seeing her again. The other side, urged on by his curiosity, insisted that he should stay, talk to her for a bit.

Instead, Rush decided to do a bit of both, talking to the woman, but only for a little while, and doing it to get her to calm down a bit and let him go back to hunting. If he didn't and just took off, the woman would probably follow and try to stop him, seeming to be the type of person to do something like that, in a misguided attempt to 'protect her fellow travellers'.

What a pain in the behind that would be to deal with.

Now that he was fairly relaxed, his head less clouded by hunger, the haunting familiarity of the woman was quite clear. She reminded him uncomfortably of Kyrie, his cousin, a young female Remnant who'd been a best friend and big sister to him, back in Veyriel. She had also been one of the last to die, distracting the white garbed killers just long enough to buy Rush time to escape.

Still watching him mistrustfully, the woman exhaled sharply, her breathing slightly laboured, muttering under her breath,

"Interesting? Maybe I was right in the first place, he _is_ one of those skirt chasers from Celapaleis."

The words, meant to bolster the woman's own confidence, still reached his ears clearly due to his heightened senses. His surprise at being compared to a 'skirt chaser', quickly turned to mortification as her previous words to him suddenly made horrible sense, about how "taking a more aggressive approach won't get you what you want."

The insinuation behind her words had him spluttering in indignation, blushing despite himself, and almost toppling off his tree branch. It was only a last minute grab at the bough which saved him from tumbling to the ground, arms and legs clinging to the broad limb, though admittedly he was still left dangling _upside down_ from said branch.

Hearing a quickly muffled snigger Rush whipped his head around to stare at the woman. Gaping, he saw her shoulders shaking silently, her lips twitching upwards against her will. It was at this moment that his grip failed, the muscle of his now mostly healed forearm protesting the strain he placed on it, and as he was still hanging upside down, his back and the forest floor met with a painful sounding _thump_.

Temporarily loosing the battle against her laughter, the woman released a few slightly hysterical giggles, probably due to the fact that the creature that had planned to _feed_ from her, though apparently not kill her, was now acting like any young boy suffering from intense embarrassment. She hadn't let all her guard down however, as her swords were still held defensively in her, admittedly slightly shaky hold.

"I know you implied you were young, but I didn't think you were young enough to be embarrassed about that, boy!"

Sitting up slowly, Rush scowled at the woman, a relatively mild retort waiting on the tip of his tongue, inwardly marvelling at the near complete turnabout from fear to amusement. Even her energy had lightened, now back to the same blue-silver colour he'd first seen, though he could still feel an unusual sharpness to it, like touching the cutting edge of a newly forged sword.

"Hey, not everyone has sex on the brain, and anyway, I don't find mitra attractive like that, we're not the same species. And besides, I'm not that young! I may not be an adult, but I'm still 18 years old, which can't be that much younger than you, lady, and my name's Rush, not boy, thanks for asking…"

Layering sarcasm heavily onto the last part, he made a big show of getting to his feet and checking the superficially healed wound on his arm. Watching discreetly from the corner of his eye, he saw her tense as he moved, the amusement dying down to embers in her eyes, but not disappearing completely.

"Uh, now that I think about it, what is your name anyway? I remember you said something about honey earlier, but…"

With a shrug, Rush stretched his arms above his head, then propped himself against the same tree he fell out of, plucking a few leaves out of his hair before crossing his arms loosely over his chest, being sure to keep his body relaxed and stance casual, steadfastly ignoring the tremors that ran through his body.

Obviously scrutinising the young Remnant, taking in the bloodstained clothes and slight tremble of exhaustion, the woman was silent for a moment, thinking. Coming to the decision that giving her name couldn't hurt, she took a step closer, reassured by the teens worn down appearance and casual stance.

"If you really want to know, my name is Emma Honeywell the second, sole heir to the Honeywell estates in Athlum. If you must call me something, call me Emmy, or Miss Honeywell, not Lady."

Frowning at the shocked stare she got in return, she queried,

"Well, what's the look for? You wanted to know my name."

Gaping at the young woman, Rush gulped audibly, suddenly fearing for his own safety if this woman told anyone about his failed attack on her.

"You're _General Honeywell's_ daughter? The same General who's seen as one of the most skilled fighters in the world, who has taken down Yama gladiators three times her size? The woman who has never been beaten in a fight, even against experienced mages?"

Getting a puzzled nod in reply, Rush felt his knees go weak, letting his back slide down the rough bark of the tree until he was sitting between the protruding roots. Not even noticing that Emmy's guard had dropped even further, he sat there, thinking of the tremendous mistake he'd almost made in attacking Emmy.

Looking up when the tip of a sword tapped the boot of one outstretched leg, he blinked, realising that the woman had almost completely dropped her guard, swords down from their defensive position and her body looser, muscles less tense. She now looked openly curious, though still with a hint of caution in her gaze. Surprised at the change, Rush explained his reaction.

"General Honeywell is famous the world over, even amongst Remnants. In Vey…where I'm from, we're told to never have anything to do with the General, both because of her fighting skills, and because of her acquaintance with the latest of the Marshal bloodline. If I'd actually succeeded in my attack, and she found out about it, she'd know it was a Remnant behind it, and have the Marshal heir track me to the ends of the earth. Then when she found me, she would take great pleasure in ensuring I have the slowest, most painful death possible, because I definitely wouldn't be able to hide long enough to reach my next birthday."

Shuddering at the mental pictures those thoughts conjured, he started to stand, then winced, sucking in a sharp breath as he abruptly sat down again, a particularly painful jolt of hunger stabbing through his middle. He'd almost forgotten about it to be honest, having pushed it right to the back of his mind.

Slightly startled by the unexpected movement, Emmy stepped back, swords coming up once more into a guard position. Wariness and apprehension were starting to creep back onto her face, knowing something was wrong. Hearing her move, Rush avoided looking at her, his hunger roaring back to the forefront of his mind, the feel of her spirit brushing against his senses so tantalising it was almost torture. He had to hold himself back from leaping at her, her presence far too close for comfort.

Realising he'd put off feeding for too long, he knew that in a few minutes he wouldn't be able to stop himself from attacking her, the physical similarity to Kyrie mattering little if she was still near enough to sense. His instinct would be taking over at that point, and it wouldn't distinguish her from any other person, mitra, qsiti or yama. At that point they would all be considered as nothing more than prey. Through repeated stabs of hunger, each one like a blade sinking into his gut, he squeezed out a few words.

"Miss Emmy, you need to go now, get back to the road before I end up doing something we'll both regret."

Catching what he meant Emmy gave him a look of mingled pity and fear, before backing away in the direction of the road. Before she could get to the edge of the clearing however, the bushes behind her moved, forcing her to turn her back on Rush, and three rough looking qsiti hopped out, weapons drawn, followed by four male mitra. The lead qsiti, a particularly ugly fellow with a scar running through one eye, smirked at the scene before him.

"Well well lads, it looks like we didn't miss the young Lady Honeywell after all. We thought you'd caught on to us, disappearing like that." Glancing over at Rush, he dismissed the boy with hardly a thought, and turned back to Emmy, his eyes raking over her figure, the thinly veiled greed there making her want to shudder.

"What a shame that fine body of yours will go to waste. You would make a good price on the slave market, particularly in Nagapur, but, orders are orders, and our employer wants you dead."

Pausing for a moment, the qsiti snapped at his subordinates, seeing they were doing nothing.

"What are you waiting for? You four, get off your lazy mitran asses and kill the woman, and be careful not to damage her too much, the boss needs her body in good condition for his experiments. You two, come with me and get the boy, he's a witness and needs disposing of, conscious or not."

At this, the four mitra closed in on Emmy, spreading out to circle her and block her escape. The three qsiti then moved towards Rush, who was still trying to fight off the increasingly painful stabs of hunger, unaware of the qsiti's intentions, hearing nothing over the thunderous beat of his own heart and the blood pounding in his ears.

oooooooooooooooo

Inwardly alarmed at this new development and extremely aware of the veritable time bomb just a few meters away, Emmy narrowed her eyes as she stared at the men circling her position, hemming her in. Raising her swords into an attack position, she grinned mockingly at the men, beckoning them with a twitch of her head, hoping to anger them into attacking blindly.

She succeeded, the man to her left growling and lunging forward, swinging his large broadsword in a downward slash, both hands gripping the hilt. Spinning to the right Emmy dodged the clumsy attack with ease, one of her swords descending towards the man's unprotected neck, only to be blocked by an old and battered looking bluesteel blade.

Glancing across at its wielder, she glimpsed lank greasy hair and a hard weatherworn face before she had to duck under the horizontal swing of a large spiked hammer. Feeling her hair move slightly as the hammer came perilously close to taking her head off, she lashed out with a forceful kick, shattering the hammer wielders kneecap as her steel reinforced boot connected with it. Dodging the wildly swung hammer, she lashed out with the pommel of her right sword, knocking him out cold and cutting off his howl of pain. Barely sparing him a glance as he collapsed, she threw herself at the man with the broadsword.

Using crossed blades to catch one of his clumsy strikes, she again used her legs, kicking him in the gut, sending him staggering backwards allowing her to twist the sword from his hands, kicking it away an instant later.

Moving swiftly inside his guard Emmy raised one sword and slashed his throat, jumping back to avoid the large spray of blood that followed. Cursing the unusual stiffness in her muscles, and the tightness in her chest that had her gasping already, she sensed movement behind her, and barely turned in time to block a vicious stab aimed at her unarmoured side.

It was the man with the old bluesteel, leering sickeningly at her. She could see now that he was thin and wiry, obviously experienced with the sword arts. He had the bluesteel in one hand, but in the other was a long straight dagger, perfect for puncturing armour, or stabbing you in the back.

Locking one of her swords with his, she struck with her other blade, hoping to immobilise the dagger wielding arm. Instead, she was blocked, dagger moving expertly to deflect her blade despite it's size, then moving inside her guard and punching easily through the thick leather covering her right shoulder.

Crying out in shock and pain, she wrenched away from him, leaving the dagger still buried in her flesh. Keeping a wary eye on him, she glanced around, looking for the fourth man, who seemed to have disappeared.

Realising her opponent was still grinning she tensed, expecting a sneak attack. Seconds later she realised it wasn't necessary, as a wave of dizziness assaulted her, causing her to stagger. The dagger must have been coated with something, some debilitating poison or potion. It was also very fast acting, she thought, as the world swam in front of her eyes, sending her to her knees as the ground seemed to lurch under her.

Sensing movement, she looked up, seeing the fourth man standing above her, carrying a long, heavy, club ended sceptre in both hands. The man lifted the sceptre just as her vision blurred further, so she didn't see him swing at her, only felt it when it collided with the back of her head. The painful blow sending fireworks across her eyes, she toppled onto the grass, swords falling from her slack grip. As her vision faded, she wondered if this was it for her, knowing she would need a miracle to get out of this mess.

She was wounded, poisoned, approaching unconsciousness, and trapped in the middle of the woods with men who wanted to kill her, and a half starved Remnant whose self control was hanging by a thread… Struggling to remain conscious, she was unprepared for the second blow to her head, a kick to the temple courtesy of a large booted foot, sending her spiralling into blackness.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hehe, I'm evil aren't I? Will Emmy survive? What will happen to Rush? Who hired those mercenaries and why do they want Emmy dead?

Find out in the next exciting instalments!


	5. Don't Tempt the Hungry Remnant

AN: Yes, and it's a new chapter! \o/ Thanks go out to **Zico** and **Mimic Shalle** for their reviews last chapter, which feed my ever hungry muse. Oh, and a prize (a scaled down model of Athlum, complete with figures) goes out to **Zico** for spotting my hidden nod to Rush's voice actor, Johnny Young Bosch, who also voiced Nero in Devil May Cry 4. Kyrie is the name of Nero's love interest in the game, so .

I think I've been keeping you waiting long enough, so lets head deeper into the rabbit hole…

_Previously_

_She was wounded, poisoned, approaching unconsciousness, and trapped in the middle of the woods with men who wanted to kill her, and a half starved Remnant whose self control was hanging by a thread… Struggling to remain conscious, she was unprepared for the second blow to her head, a kick to the temple courtesy of a large booted foot, sending her spiralling into blackness._

oooooooooooooooooooo

Meanwhile, as Emmy was fighting the four mitra, the lead qsiti was wondering whether to bother killing the boy, as he looked half dead already, skin so pale it seemed almost grey. His face was twisted in a weak grimace, eyes closed, with both arms wrapped around his middle. His whole body was curled in on itself, trembling slightly.

"Hey Kin, do we kill 'im or leave 'im for the monsters, 'e looks 'alfway there already…"

Growling at the qsiti who spoke, the leader frowned, sheathing his drawn khukuri blade.

"We'll kill him, there's a divain pack in these woods that'll appreciate the extra meat. We'll take him further away from the road before we kill him, so his corpse won't be found easily. Bind him so he can't struggle, we don't want him escaping just because we underestimated him."

Gesturing towards the boy, the leader stepped back, watching the other qsiti move forward to tie the boy's hands.

He wasn't anticipating what happened next.

While one of the qsiti held the rope, the other bent down to pull the boys hands away from his abdomen. The moment he grabbed the boy's wrist however, he jerked back with a curse, shaking his hand violently, tiny green sparks clinging to his skin.

Looking down at the boy, the cursing qsiti stopped dead, a frisson of fear running down his spine. The boy was looking at him, staring up through a thick messy fringe, eyes glowing pools of green, pupils invisible beneath the eerie luminescence. His face was devoid of any emotion save the one visible in his eyes.

**Hunger**.

Stepping back, the qsiti shivered as those unnerving eyes tracked his movement, not blinking once. Just a moment before, the boy had seemed to be in pain, but now his face lacked any trace of discomfort, looking more like it had been carved from cold hard marble, expressionless and lacking all traces of humanity.

Even the hunger in those glowing eyes seemed inhuman, ancient and predatory in nature. The eyes then flicked to the side, staring at something behind him. The qsiti glanced over his shoulder quickly, just in time to see the woman struck down by a vicious blow to the head, a dagger embedded in her shoulder.

Sensing movement, he whipped back around, only to find himself nose to nose with the boy, eyes now burning with fury as well as hunger. Feeling a tingle in his arm, the qsiti tried to look down, only to discover he couldn't move, his whole body limp and unresponsive.

He didn't realise the boy was now holding him up, one hand gripping the edge of thick leather armour, the other on the bare skin of the qsiti's arm, green energy humming as it sank into the exposed skin. Those eyes seemed to be pulsing now, even as the qsiti's vision began to fade, a dull pain building in his chest. Drifting into unconsciousness, the qsiti was only vaguely aware of being tilted forward, head lolling drunkenly.

The last thing he felt was hot breath across the back of his neck, warm lips and blunt teeth lightly gripping the skin, before agony unlike anything he'd ever felt ripped through him. An unknown presence was tearing at the vital essence within his body, draining it like a thirsty man would a glass of water, the last few dregs of his life siphoned off to sustain the creature clinging to his body like it was a lifeline.

Staring in terror, the lead qsiti backed away from the boy, whose body was now covered in a glittering sheen of pale green light, the air surrounding him shimmering like a heat haze. He wasn't sure what happened at first, the attack on his subordinate was over in seconds, but when the boy, no, the monster lifted it's head from the neck of the limp qsiti in it's grasp, and dropped the obviously dead body, he knew he had made a grave error, one he might pay for with his life.

Standing to it's full height, the boy-monster rolled it's shoulders, loosening the muscles while it flexed it's fingers almost experimentally.

The qsiti who had been holding the rope was transfixed by fear, hands shaking so badly that he dropped it, causing the boy's head to snap in his direction, attracted by the sudden movement. With it's head down and tilted at a slight angle, the now frighteningly alien creature fixed him with a decidedly predatory stare, sending an icy chill down the qsiti's spine.

Unfortunately for him, rather than staying still and quiet, which might have bought him another few minutes of life, he chose to run and bolted across the clearing, the quick movement sealing his fate. The creature responded automatically to the swift retreat by giving chase, as any predator would, the rush of adrenaline making his body thrum with excitement.

The qsiti barely made it ten steps before a solid weight landed on his back, sending him crashing to the ground, already fighting to free himself from the boy-creature's vice like grip. A strangled scream escaped his wildly struggling form as the boy dragged him back, arms like steel bands clamping round his chest, pinning both of his arms.

Not bothering to paralyse this victim, the Remnant bent towards his struggling prey, the heady scent of fear drowning out everything else beside the overpowering need to _consume_.

The qsiti thrashed in his grasp, the panicked spasms of it's energy easily felt. A moment later another scream escaped the qsiti, this not a cry of terror, but a shriek of agony that was abruptly cut off mere seconds after the boy's mouth found the nape of his neck.

Releasing the still twitching body, the Remnant stood, experiencing a brief sense of satisfaction as the life was consumed, savouring the sweet misty taste lingering on his tongue while the perpetual ache of his tired body diminished. He was now feeling pleasantly full, but not sated, and only seconds passed before a new wave of hunger overcame him, need turning into greed as the delicious scent and feel of the other living beings tantalised his senses, making his mouth water in anticipation.

Sensing a rapidly approaching presence, he turned, only to leap backwards an instant later, a battered bluesteel whistling through the space he'd been not a moment before. Shocked and angered at the attack, he jumped quickly out of reach of another blow, falling to one knee when his foot slipped in the thick carpet of dead leaves.

Crouched several feet away from the wary swordsman, he changed tactics and gave a low, deep throated growl which tapered off into a spine chilling _hiss_, his throat flexing imperceptibly to accommodate the draconian noises while his eyes remained fixed on the mitra.

He could smell the man's fear, see the sweat beading on his brow as the bestial sound made all the hairs on the mitra's body stand on end, his heartbeat pounding even faster in his chest.

Seeking to further unnerve the man, force him to bolt or attack or do something to make his guard slip, the boy-Remnant crept forward on all fours, every move as careful and quiet as a hunting cat. Despite the seemingly awkward difference in length between arms and legs, the boy somehow made the motion look perfectly natural, the eerily smooth movement of a predator stalking it's next kill.

Unblinking gaze focused on his potential prey, he saw the moment when the mitra's nerve failed, and lunged, dodging the reflexive strike and slipping round behind the man, leaping onto his back and going for his exposed neck, his weight and momentum bearing the man to the ground.

At that moment, the Remnant's mind was nothing but a tangled mess of :_threatangerhungerpreyconsume_: his conscious mind buried beneath the weight of ancient instinct and animal need, unable to stop what was happening.

Leaning over the mitra in his grasp, the boy-remnant snatched the man's sword arm and pinned it to the ground, the male's other arm crushed beneath him, his legs keeping the mitra's lower body still. The boy's other hand was splayed over the mitra's skull, fingers tangled in his hair, keeping his head still and neck outstretched for easy access.

With all his concentration on subduing and consuming the bright life-force contained within the mitra he held, he disregarded the other beings nearby, and never noticed the rapidly nearing form of the other male mitra.

To his shock, just as he bent to taste his prey, something hard slammed into the side of his head, temporarily stunning him. Reeling from the blow, strong enough to crack a normal mitra skull, he was unprepared for the second hit in nearly the same place, forcing him to release the man with a cry of pain.

Tumbling into the leaves he tried to get to his feet, to retreat from the unexpected assault as the world lurched sickeningly around him. On a positive note, the attack had brought him back to his senses somewhat, banishing the blind instinct that had been driving his actions ever since the first qsiti touched him.

Hearing the shouted words of an invocation, Rush managed to stagger to his feet, scrambling to the side to try and avoid a powerful spell that chilled the air as it passed. Not quite making it, he saw it impact the earth beside him, exploding into a large fountain of blue-white ice, one of the growing icy projections catching him in the side and tossing him several metres.

Landing with a pained gasp, Rush lay stunned for a few precious moments, feeling as though he'd just been hammered by a colossus, pain blossoming through his side as a massive bruise quickly began forming, turning even darker as the frozen magic bit at his exposed skin, burning like acid.

Hearing the ominous hum of another spell, he heaved himself to his feet, barely jerking out of the way of a strong shock invocation, the magical energy prickling uncomfortably when it passed him.

Fighting to regain his equilibrium he stared woozily at the two mitra, at the swordsman who had regained his feet and his weapon, at the scarred qsiti leader who had joined them, and he realised he needed to retreat and give himself a moment to recover.

Backing towards the cover of the trees, he felt sick as he caught sight of the two qsiti bodies dropped carelessly on the ground. Head pounding from the blows, Rush made a break for the tree line, his movements rather unsteady but still too fast to target with another spell.

Temporarily out of sight behind a large beech tree, he collapsed into a sheltered dip between two large roots and was violently sick, tears leaking from his eyes, dry heaves shaking his body since he had eaten nothing solid to be sick with.

Stomach muscles cramping and pain stabbing through his abdomen, he gingerly inspected his side, knowing the magic damage would take longer to heal than his head wound. It wasn't too bad, but it would take at least two days to fully heal, the flesh darkened with a nasty purple bruise and the skin blistering slightly from the magic.

Thankfully his head was already clearing, the pain diminishing rapidly now that he wasn't playing 'dodge the spell' with the homicidal mitra any more.

Listening for any sign that he'd been followed, he waited until the pain was at a manageable level, which only took a couple of minutes thanks to his rapid healing, before moving back to the clearing to check on the remaining men. He didn't think they would have moved, and he was right.

He found them arguing over something, the qsiti obviously angry and uneasy, the mitra very nervous as they eyed the tree line. Watching them from the shadow of a tree, he saw the qsiti gesture towards three fallen mitra on the other side of the clearing, two of them male, obviously taken down by the third, Emmy. Focusing, he listened in and caught the tail end of the qsiti's words.

"We should just take the woman and go, leave whoever else is alive to distract this… monster if it decides to come back. Orders are orders, and our employer isn't going to be happy if we return empty handed. We still need to deliver her body, and that thing, whatever it is, isn't exactly going to be telling anyone about this."

Glaring at the two mitra, the qsiti, despite his bold words, stayed right beside his colleagues, too afraid to venture further away. The swordsman scanned the tree line, pausing briefly before he shared a look with the other mitra, who nodded and lifted his weapon, a well used sceptre, and began to gather power for a spell.

Frowning, Rush scrutinised the spell caster. Something about the man caused an unusual surge of anger in Rush, as well as a faint twinge of fear. He knew the man was the one who hit him, and as the spellcaster of the group the fear was deserved, but that wasn't the cause of the anger.

Looking at the mitra's weapon gave him the answer. The sceptre wielder was the one who had taken down Emmy, a few pale blonde hairs and a touch of fresh blood still clinging to the other side of the weapon's surface, along with a larger smear of his own, golden flecked blood.

Ducking back behind the tree he thought about what he could do. He knew that he couldn't let these men leave here with their memories intact. Beside the fact that they had apparently been hired to kill Emmy, they might tell others about him, and that information might get back to the ones who destroyed his home.

No one had apparently been sent after Rush, so the false Remnants must think they killed all the young Remnants, and Rush didn't want that to change anytime soon.

Busy with his thoughts, Rush almost missed the mitra shout out a spell. Snapping out of it, Rush peered out from behind the sheltering trunk, only to get a flash arrow come close enough to clip his ear.

Biting back his yelp of surprise, Rush leapt away from the tree not a moment too soon, ear burning like it had been branded, as a barrage of flash arrows pulverised the trunk, magically charged splinters flying in all directions, peppering his arm and back but thankfully not penetrating the skin.

Crouched on all fours, Rush saw the sceptre swing in his direction, glowing with gathered magic, and had to dodge the sharp icy spikes of another frost spell, letting his renewed power surge to the surface, immediately relieving the ache in his head and glowing through his skin, causing the air to shimmer. Allowing the power to flow through his body like this felt as natural as breathing, each sense heightened to an extraordinary level, strength and speed increasing along with them.

Even with the scent of freshly cast magic burning his nose, he could still pick up the rank smell of fear coming from the three males. He could hear their ragged breathing under the crackle of forming ice, and under even that, the faint tattoo of frantic heartbeats.

Pushing more power into his legs, he shot forward with only a faint wobble to betray his previous wounds, little more than a blur to the mercenaries, pouncing on the qsiti and carrying him away before he could so much as squeak in surprise.

Hidden in the thick foliage of a tree on the other side of the clearing, Rush quickly but carefully drained the qsiti, being extra careful to just take enough to knock it out and cloud the creatures memory.

Laying the unconscious qsiti out of sight under a bush, he paused and laid a supporting hand against the nearest tree, head still spinning slightly due to the fast movement, before spying a tiny jade orb wrapped in a cage of silver wire hanging from the qsiti's neck.

Removing it, he stuffed it in a pocket, knowing what it was, and that the dormant magic contained within it couldn't hurt him. He also didn't want the mercenary to recover any faster than he normally would, as even dormant Jade orbs could increase the speed of recovery for their holders.

Moving quietly from tree to tree, he watched the two mitra, standing back to back and scanning the tree line for any signs of movement. Thinking for a moment, he hit upon an idea that might get them where he wanted them.

He needed to act quickly, as he couldn't check on Emmy with the two mitra still up and about, and his side was demanding that he rest, throbbing angrily in protest to his continued movement. He knew Emmy was still alive, for he could feel her soul, but it was alarmingly faint, dim and flickering like a candle flame.

Finding a particularly leafy tree, he paused, pulling up a little of his power, condensing it into a rough orb in his hand. It should have been perfectly smooth and solid, a ball of pure concentrated energy, and with the right amount of power, strong enough to do incredible amounts of damage, but he never got the chance to learn that before he had to flee Veyriel. This would do little more than singe some branches and produce a big flash. Still, it should do for what he had in mind.

Aiming carefully, he threw the orb over the searching men's heads, angled so that it went off amongst the branches of a tree almost directly behind them. Hearing the rustle as it entered the foliage, both men turned just in time to be blinded by the brilliant flash of light.

Acting the moment the orb went off, Rush dropped from the tree he was hiding in, streaking towards the mercenaries at full tilt, hands full of green lightning. Reaching them an instant later, he skidded to a stop, slamming his hands onto both men's backs, raw power burning straight through armour and clothes to expose bare skin, allowing him to flood their bodies with enough paralysing energy to knock them out completely, but not stop their breathing or heart.

Seeing them crumple to the ground, he relaxed a bit, allowing his power to fade into the background once more. Settling carefully between them, he lifted the man who wielded the bluesteel into a kneeling position, one arm around his chest to stop him from falling back to the ground.

Wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant scent of sweaty unwashed skin and musky pheromones, Rush gingerly pulled the mitra closer. Leaning him forward to expose his neck, Rush bent down and fed, hating the fact that he needed to do this, but knowing this was the only alternative other than death, and Rush hated killing people for any reason. Lowering the mitra carefully to the ground, he then repeated the procedure with the other man, steadfastly avoiding looking at the bodies of the first two qsiti.

Moving over to where Emmy lay, he saw there was one of the slavers still alive, a big brute of a man, unconscious and sporting a horribly swollen and discoloured knee, livid bruises beginning to appear.

Looking at it from all angles, he guessed that his kneecap was shattered. Even in Remnants, such a wound took time to mend, and knowing mitra were much slower at healing naturally, he guessed the man would probably end up with a pronounced and painful limp if he didn't get immediate help.

Grimacing at the thought, Rush hesitated to take any energy from this man. He couldn't take the chance that the unconscious man might have seen what Rush did to the other slavers, and he couldn't let the man remember fighting Emmy when the others would not, but draining such energy from a person who was seriously hurt carried it's own problems.

Death was a much more likely outcome when feeding on a wounded victim, due to the amount of stress it put on the body. Those in good health were generally fine, but injury and age greatly increased the risk of death in a victim. The younger the person the better, for their bodies could easily cope, though Rush drew the line at hunting children, despite how much easier it would be.

Wrestling with the idea for several minutes, Rush decided that he couldn't risk the man remembering, and hoped that his decision wouldn't cause another unnecessary death.

Taking the bare minimum, Rush breathed a sigh of relief when the man continued to breathe easily. Leaving him where he lay, Rush edged round the mitra with the slashed throat, grimacing at the blood stained grass, the coppery scent filling his nose, and finally moved over to Emmy.

Looking over her comatose form, he didn't know what to do first. He didn't know how similar mitra bodies were to his own, only that there were many small differences, and several large ones, and that mitra were more fragile than his own kind.

Unsure of the damage he might cause were he to try to treat her wounds, Rush decided he couldn't risk taking out the dagger, which was the most obvious injury, as removing it might trigger some major bleeding. Checking the rest of her body, the only other wounds he could see were the gash caused by the sceptre striking her head, and the beginnings of an impressive bruise forming on her temple.

Knowing he could at least stop the bleeding, Rush retraced his steps until he found Emmy's discarded pack. Searching it's contents quickly yielded up a long roll of bandages, and some soft clean cloths. Folding one of the cloths into a pad, he bound it firmly into place over the cut, hoping he wasn't tying it too tightly.

Sitting back, Rush looked over her still form again, taking in the severe pallor of her skin, and the soft, irregular breaths that seemed to be growing weaker by the moment. Swallowing the fleeting sense of panic trying to claw it's way to the surface, the young Remnant closed off his emotions, and tried to look at the situation objectively. Highly sceptical that either injury could be responsible for the near death state he found her in, Rush decided to investigate further.

Looking beneath the surface, at the tangle of energy that gave her life, he could see that something was amiss. The bright blue-silver had dulled to a sickly lilac-grey, the colour change most obvious in the knot of light gathered around the stab wound.

Grasping her limp hand in his, Rush thought back to one particular lesson from his teacher in Veyriel, and _reached_ out to Emmy with the part of him that wasn't physical, spirit and power combining in a way that let him touch and manipulate what was normally beyond most limits of perception.

Touching a persons soul, the young Remnant discovered, was a very dizzying experience, as he found himself nearly swept away by the deluge of emotions that battered at his spirit.

Gasping at the unexpected sensations, Rush tried to pull back, only to be swamped by memory fragments, faces of people he didn't know, places he had never seen, things he had never learned and battles he hadn't fought. Wrenching himself free, the youth hovered on the edge of the pulsing network of energy, shaken by that first experience.

More cautiously this time, Rush skimmed swiftly over the tightly woven lines of light, unwilling to let it pull him in again while he looked for the cause of that odd change he'd seen. Searching quickly, he soon came upon the tight knot of energy, the sickly colour infecting more threads even as he watched, the vitality of blue and silver being sucked away, seeming to fuel the spread of whatever this was.

Steeling himself, he moved in to get a proper feel for it, and maybe work out how to stop it. The moment he saw it up close however, he knew this wouldn't be simple, the invading essence a thick sticky darkness that seemed to be spreading even as he watched.

Reaching out, he touched it lightly, to see if it reacted at all. It did, shrivelling under his touch like dead leaves on a bonfire. Cheered by this unexpected response, Rush set to work carefully removing the black goo from the humming threads, trying not to snap any of them as he went. Moving quickly, he was able to halt it's progress, and slowly but surely beat it back towards it's source, the knot of light that was presumably her shoulder wound.

Guessing by now that the darkness was some sort of poison that must have been coating the dagger, (though he really didn't know much about such things) Rush warily inspected the tightly knotted threads around the injury, dissolving the goo wherever he found it.

Seeing more darkness begin to creep along the threads, he knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of all the poison without either, (a) removing the dagger, or (b) flushing the area with power.

Under normal circumstances, pushing raw, unfocused Remnant power into any other living creature was highly dangerous. His own paralytic abilities used a special type of energy, refined and focused, but in its natural state such power was deadly, eating away at the creature's spirit, in large enough amounts causing madness and death.

According to some, however, it could be used in small, controlled amounts, for specific purposes. He really didn't know if doing that would work, but he knew that if he did nothing Emmy wouldn't last the day. Taking a deep breath, he set to work, praying to all the Gods that he wouldn't cause more problems than he was trying to fix...

Pulling back some time later, Rush breathed a sigh of relief, his plan having worked well. The poison was gone, only a slight discolouration remaining on the woman's spirit. Already she was looking better, a bit of colour returned to her skin, though she was still as deeply unconscious as before.

Glancing up at the sky, Rush frowned. It had been a little after noon when he'd first encountered the woman, and now the sun was low in the sky meaning several hours must have passed.

The light wasn't fading yet, but it would soon, and the mercenaries would be waking up come nightfall. The woman showed no sign of waking up anytime soon, and if he left her, she'd either be found by the mercenaries again, or fall prey to some of the nocturnal creatures in the area.

Resigning himself, he retrieved both Emmy's swords, wiping them and putting them back in their sheathes, before heaving Emmy herself into his arms, her height and the extra weight of her armour making it very awkward for Rush to carry her, despite his greater strength.

Moving away from the clearing, Rush was unaware of the pair of sharp, calculating eyes that had been watching the entire fight. Waiting until the boy-creature was gone, the eighth mercenary emerged from hiding, very glad he had been ordered to hang back and observe.

Removing anything of value from the dead, he dragged their corpses further into the interior of the forest, then returned to wait for his companions to wake, examining with interest the gold flecked blood on the end of his companions sceptre…

Picking his way through the undergrowth, Rush made it to the road and started walking, hoping that a caravan or cart would appear, otherwise he'd be walking all night. Twenty minutes later, a merchant caravan rounded the corner behind him, six wagons with several guards walking alongside, presumably coming from Celapaleis.

The lead driver, seeing the bedraggled boy and unconscious, wounded woman, was suspicious at first, wary of the two being part of a ruse by brigands that sometimes targeted caravans.

After getting a better look at the two, he saw that their wounds weren't faked, and agreed to give the both of them a lift. Huddled in the back of the end caravan, Rush covered Emmy with the blankets he had been given, the cold night air far more dangerous for her than the young Remnant, who was barely able to feel the chill wind plucking at his clothes.

Unable to sleep, Rush busied himself with constantly checking Emmy's condition, noting with some alarm that she was developing a fever. Unable to do anything about it, all Rush could do was hope that they reached a healer in time, doing his best to keep her comfortable.

As they rode, Rush wondered how she would react when she woke up, if she would tell the healers or other people in charge of her encounter with him. He fervently hoped not, because most reacted with fear and aggression towards anything that hunted people, no matter how intelligent the creature in question was.

The Jhana were a perfect example of this. True, the Jhana were a rather bloodthirsty race, but away from the battlefield they could be surprisingly social and friendly towards other creatures. They might look brutal, but they lavished care on their tamed raptors, and could co-operate quite well with the various imp tribes they sometimes lived near.

'People' didn't see this side to them however, too caught up with their brutish appearance, and just labelled them as dumb ugly monsters without a second thought. They didn't stop to think that maybe it was their fault that the creatures were being aggressive in the first place, (which was certainly the place with imps) by stealing their land and relentlessly hunting or destroying the other's natural food source.

The mitra, qsiti and to some extent yama all acted as though it was a terrible thing for any creature to consider them food, even though some were forced into it, and others had adapted so much that they had little or no choice in the matter, their bodies dictating what they could and could not eat.

For Remnants like himself there really was no choice, monsters just weren't enough to survive on in the long run, no matter how plentiful, so they had to hunt one of the four established sentient species. Sovani were more reasonable when it came to that, or so Rush had heard, for he had never actually met one himself.

They still had some measure of that wild instinct within them, and thus understood and respected the need for other creatures to survive by any means necessary. It didn't mean they liked it anymore than the others though, and he'd been warned against ever going for a Sovani if he could avoid it.

Thankfully, they were rarely found near large cities, preferring a rather nomadic existence out on the edges of 'civilisation'. It was just Rush's luck however that one of the only Sovani (and a well known one at that) in this area lived right in the heart of the city he was heading for.

As dawn crept across the sky, Athlum's most famous landmark was visible for all to see, the ancient bound Remnant Valeria Heart silhouetted against the rosy sky.


	6. Shopping and Suspicions

AN: Urgh, I swear I don't know which is worse, work that is actually really difficult, or work that's just time consuming. College, 'nuff said. Well, anyway, it's another chapter! \o/ It doesn't have any real action this time, just Rush exploring and meeting people really. (Not making dinner out of them this time.) He does get a new outfit though, and Pagus makes an appearance. The next one should be up in a week or so, but those waiting for a UE update will have to be a bit more patient, as I don't have tons of free time to write new material, even planned material. Oh yes, thanks go out to **Zico, Mimic Shalle, Alphax1** and **Sorceress Nadira** for their reviews!

_Previously_

_It was just Rush's luck however that one of the only Sovani (and a well known one at that) in this area lived right in the heart of the city he was heading for._

_As dawn crept across the sky, Athlum's most famous landmark was visible for all to see, the ancient bound Remnant Valeria Heart silhouetted against the rosy sky._

It was still early morning when the caravan arrived in Athlum, and most places weren't open yet. Stopping in the middle of the main thoroughfare instead of going right through to the main Square, some of the merchants gathered near Rush and Emmy's caravan, discussing what they should do.

Rather than giving the young Remnant directions for the nearest doctor, one of the younger merchants had offered to fetch an official healer, who had more experience with complicated injuries, than one of the local doctors. Rush agreed, not wanting to go too far from Emmy's side.

Thinking about it after the merchant had gone, he felt a sort of self imposed duty to see her safe, partly because he felt responsible for Emmy's current condition. If the mercenaries really had been hired to kill her, as their overheard conversation suggested, then a fight between Emmy and those men would have been inevitable.

However, if he hadn't attacked and worn her down, she might have had enough strength to fight off those mercenaries all by herself. She might not have been injured this badly, or been able to escape. His intervention had certainly resulted in two deaths that might otherwise have been prevented, or dealt by another's hand.

This knowledge, coupled with the remarkable similarity between Emmy and Kyrie, compelled the boy to see her safe and healed, perhaps even talk to her again, though it was unlikely that **she** would want to talk to **him**. Regardless of that, the sooner Emmy was better, the sooner he could leave, and get out from beneath the intimidating gaze of that gargantuan sword shaped Remnant, hopefully before he was found out.

Not that he would need more life energy any time soon. After those six mercenaries he was bursting with energy. If he was careful he could easily last a month without needing to consume anything but normal food, and maybe three (or more) months with only the occasional hunt to boost his stores.

Peering out of the covered caravan he spotted the merchant at the end of the street, two cream clad healers trailing behind him. Waving them over, he jumped out of the caravan to give the two healers room to move.

Watching anxiously as they looked over Emmy, he told them a severely edited version of what happened with the mercenaries, not mentioning that it seemed to be a deliberate attempt on Emmy's life (because that would lead to many difficult questions), or that she had been poisoned (as he'd already got rid of the poison).

He said that they had been attacked by bandits, and that he and Emmy managed to beat them, but that she had been struck on the side of her head by the last one, knocking her out. She hadn't come around since then, and he didn't know why.

Debating between themselves for a moment, they seemed to come to a decision, one running back down the street, while the other turned to Rush.

"Judging by what you told me, this could be even more serious than it looks. That she hasn't woken up is very worrying. Head wounds can be tricky things, and her fever isn't helping right now either."

Biting his lip, Rush felt his anxiety increasing, cursing his lack of knowledge in even the most rudimentary healing arts, not having needed to learn them because of what he was. If he'd known even a little herb lore, then maybe he could have given her something for her fever.

"Her wounds are infected aren't they, and it's because I didn't know enough to treat them."

Seeing the guilt on the young man's face, the healer exclaimed,

"Heavens no, you can't blame yourself for this. Her head wound isn't infected, and the padding helped stop the bleeding, which is good, for head injuries bleed a lot. It's the shoulder wound that looks to be infected. Don't blame yourself for your lack of knowledge. It's very fortunate that you didn't remove the dagger. Judging from its position, it's dangerously close to her brachial artery."

Seeing the confused look on the young man's face, the healer elaborated.

"The brachial artery is the main blood vessel that runs down the arm. If it is cut then you can bleed to death in moments. If that dagger is serrated, it could cut that artery if it were just pulled out. Besides that, even if you knew the magic or herbal lore to do so, you wouldn't have been able to heal it completely, most stab wounds that deep are nearly impossible to heal properly by any but the most skilled healers, and a poorly healed injury is even worse than an unhealed one. It would need to be cleaned before being healed, or serious infection could set in. If her current fever _is_ a result of infection, and not internal trauma, then it's still very mild, and should be easily treated."

Mollified a little, Rush felt his curiosity stir, and asked,

"Where did your partner go, I though you were both going to help Emmy?"

Turning, the healer glanced down the street, as though looking for something.

"We are, but we need a way to transport her safely to the clinic, we don't want to jostle anything. My partner just went to get some help, and make sure things are ready for when we get there."

Pausing a moment, the healer gave him an assessing look, eyes flicking from his bloodied sleeve to the patch of matted blood in his hair.

"I'd like to give you a check-up too, you look exhausted and that's quite a lot of blood soaked into your sleeve."

Feeling a momentary surge of panic, Rush thanked the early hour, as the bright morning sun had yet to crest the towering defensive walls that surrounded the city, keeping the streets in shadow for at least another hour or two, and preventing the mitra from seeing the faint golden glitter present in the dried blood on his sleeve.

Struck dumb by the question, Rush unconsciously hid his arm behind his back, mind working overtime to try and think of an excuse to get out this situation.

If he couldn't then the healer would definitely realise something was wrong, even without seeing his blood, as Remnants like him had a higher body temperature than any mitra, his heart also beat more slowly, and the moment any of them used a healing spell on him, the game would be up.

About to come out with some half baked excuse that he just _knew_ the healer would never believe, both Rush and the healer turned when they heard a faint moan from the caravan. Letting the healer go to Emmy's side, Rush hung back, unsure what her reaction would be upon seeing him, if she was indeed waking up.

Glancing down the street, Rush saw that the other healer had returned, walking in front of two yama bearing a wide stretcher of some kind. Deciding that this would be the best chance he had, he slipped away into a side street when the healers back was turned. Watching as Emmy was loaded onto the stretcher and taken away swiftly by the yama, he ducked back into the shadows when the healer he spoke to scanned the street, presumably looking for him.

Following the stretcher from a distance, Rush shadowed the group carefully down small twisting lanes and broad streets, until about fifteen minutes later, they arrived at what was presumably the clinic the healer spoke of.

The three storey building was at the end of a wide paved avenue, set back a little from the road, its smooth sandstone surface unusual among the timber constructions that dominated the city.

Watching them disappear inside, Rush then turned away, needing to think about what he wanted to do now. Some new clothes would be a good start, and a place to clean up was essential before the blood could catch anyone's attention.

Moving quickly through the side streets he soon became distracted by his thoughts. It was only after tripping on an uneven cobblestone that he came to realise he was thoroughly lost. The buildings around him were shabby and rundown, ramshackle wooden buildings crammed tightly together on all sides, the alleys between them not even wide enough for two people to stand abreast.

The cobbles under his feet were black with dirt and stained with who-knows-what, and there were a lot more people crowding the narrow alleys. This was obviously the poor sector that nearly every city had, though Rush had only ever been in one city before, and Melphina was too small and open to have anything like this.

Fighting the urge to gag at the rank smell of unwashed bodies and various other foul scents, he pushed his way through the narrow alley he found himself in, hoping to find an area with more room to breathe.

Seeing a small alcove further ahead, he moved towards it, only to back away with poorly concealed disgust and no small amount of horror. A rather dead looking mitra was lying at the back of the alcove, throat covered with mottled bruises. It can't have been there for long, but no one did more than glance at it in passing, faces showing barely any interest.

Looking around him, he had to presume that this sort of sight was common, thievery and murder must be an everyday occurrence in the slums, as no one was even batting an eyelid at Rush's own torn and bloodstained clothes. Moving past the body, he squashed the small flutter of pity he felt for whoever that poor soul must have been.

Coming to the end of the alley he was in, he stepped onto a slightly wider street, the houses no less ramshackle, and no less grimy. Attached to the walls of the houses were long metal brackets supporting large flaming torches, still lit due to the lack of bright sunlight this early in the morning.

The foul smells from before were still here, but muted slightly, mixing with the smell of fresh bread, various meats, woodsmoke and the ripe scent of freshly tanned leather.

The noise was also unbelievable, making poor Rush cringe, his superior hearing making everything crystal clear. Sellers were shouting about their wares, people haggling over prices, children laughing and crying, men cursing and yelling, some still drunk from the night before.

It seemed like some sort of market, shabby stalls lining each side, women and men in patched homespun garments wandering from stall to stall, some haggling over prices, others looking for an opportunity to steal from under the stall owner's nose.

Between them ran children of various ages and races, most predominantly mitra and qsiti, like the adults, many of them thin, but not obviously underfed. The mitra's skin looked a dirty brown rather than the usual peach or tan tones, due to the grime that seemed to coat every surface.

While watching one little mitra girl who looked slightly cleaner than the rest, he saw her slip easily behind a gruff looking man arguing with a stall owner, pause for an instant then carry on into the crowd, the easily recognisable shape of a money pouch disappearing swiftly into her grubby beige smock.

Seeing how easily she separated the man from his money pouch made him glad that he kept his own rather full pouch tucked under his clothes on a tough leather cord around his neck.

He had found it, about half full in the wreckage of a merchant caravan near the Southwestern road. Even with buying food to eat when he had the energy, he still had quite a lot left, mostly gold coins and some silver, added to slightly by the money he took from the occasional well off victim.

Speaking of normal food, he could eat as much as he wanted now, with plenty of energy to spare. With that in mind, Rush followed the smell of fresh bread further up the winding street, the stalls getting larger and the items better quality the farther he went.

Spotting his goal, he made a bee line for the small bakery across the street, the smell of piping hot bread and pastries making his mouth water. A few minutes later, after having demolished a small bag of half a dozen mice pies, the boy Remnant decided to get some new clothes to replace the ruined ones he currently wore.

Moving through the throng of people, Rush perused some of the better looking clothing stalls as he wandered along the street. Finding some decent clothes was a challenge, most of the materials fairly poor quality, despite being well made. He was able to hunt down a few items though.

Not knowing how to haggle meant he had to take them at their original prices, meaning they were quite overpriced. After getting them wrapped in brown paper, he tucked his new clothes under his arm, and made his way over to a large stall covered in newly made leather items, from clothes, to shoes and bags.

Perusing the items on display, Rush was acutely aware of the hulking yama guards at either end of the stall, presumably there to deal with any would-be thieves. Reassured that it would be safe to let his guard down, he relaxed and shifted all his attention to the items on display.

Looking at the boots sitting in a row at the front of the stall, he was reminded of the sorry state of his own shoes. They were practically falling apart from all the wear and tear, as they were the same pair he'd worn when escaping from Veyriel months ago. Deciding he might as well splurge on this, he chose the best pair he could see, sturdy looking brown leather boots.

The rim rose just above the ankle when on, with triple stitching at the seams, and deep grips with metal plates worked into the sole and covering the toes for added protection. The whole interior also appeared to be padded, a thick suede lining which would cushion the foot and help stop the leather chafing against the ankle. Setting those boots in front of him, Rush then looked towards the back of the stall, and the collection of coats displayed there.

Dismissing the black coats as too showy, his eyes then fell on a mid-thigh length coat, the colour a warm oaken brown. It was fitted at the waist, with a narrow belt to help keep it closed in bad weather. The buttons were small and unobtrusive, the same colour as the coat, and the revers style collar added a nice bit of flare.

Asking for a closer look, the stall owner grudgingly took it down from it's place among the other coats, dubiously eyeing Rush's own dirty apparel. Ignoring the look, Rush examined the coat closely, loving the feel of the supple leather between his fingers.

At the back of the neck was a detachable hood, four buttons positioned around the neck to hold it in place, and when it was off it could easily be kept in one of the deep outer pockets, or the smaller hidden pocket attached to the lining.

The lining itself was something he didn't expect, as it was made of arachnid silk, specially treated to strip it of it's sticky quality. It was not a very soft or comfortable material, but it was one of the lightest and strongest fabrics out there, only dragon and demon hide being stronger, but much thicker and heavier.

Looking at stall owner, he asked for the prices of the boots and the coat. After hearing the price, which would take quite a chunk out of his money, he none-the-less started to pull out his money pouch, before he spotted another couple of things that would certainly come in handy. Adding a thick black belt and a good sized leather knapsack to his choices, he bought them, getting the coat and belt wrapped as well.

Putting all his packages into the knapsack, he then made his way as quickly as possible out of the market, seeing he was getting a bit too much attention from some of the shady looking men loitering on the fringes of the crowd. Sticking to the main streets, Rush kept up a fast pace, seeing he was being followed by those same men, knowing things wouldn't end well if they cornered him.

Nearly an hour later, the men finally gave up as the streets around him began to improve, the houses seeming larger and less grime coated. Seeing the looks of disgust and unease his appearance was attracting, and acutely aware of the bright morning sunlight so close to spilling onto the streets, Rush attempted to ask for directions to the nearest public baths.

Three sets of false directions later, he finally found it. Stopping at the entrance of the fairly large single storey building, he paid for one of the small, private bathing rooms, ignoring the wide eyed look his bloodstained appearance earned. Walking down green and white tiled corridors, he was shown to the private bathing room he had asked (and had to pay extra) for.

After locking the door and hanging his knapsack on one of the wall hooks, he stripped off his filthy, blood encrusted clothes, tossed them into a corner, and sank gratefully into the almost-too-hot bath, relishing the feeling of clean warm water on his skin.

Much scrubbing and hair washing later, Rush was now relaxing in the water, letting the heat soak into his body. He had nearly rubbed himself raw with all that scrubbing, but that was a small price to pay to be properly clean for once. He hadn't had an actual bath since his first and only stop in Melphina, shortly after leaving Veyriel.

He had been too shocked and afraid at the time to really enjoy it, and had to flee within the week, spotting one of the black clothed men lurking around the tavern.

While in Melphina, the Blue Elf hadn't really reacted to his presence, perhaps sensing that he was no threat to her city, scared and alone as he was. Like the Blue Elf, the Valeria Heart, so far, hadn't done anything to let him know he wasn't welcome, just broadcast the feeling of being watchful, a reminder for him to behave while he was in it's territory.

Half asleep from the relaxing heat, Rush was startled to hear a knock on the door, a polite voice telling him to hurry up, as other people were waiting to be served and the staff needed to prepare the room for the next customer. Reluctantly getting out of the bath, Rush dried himself with the towels provided, and unpacked his new clothes.

Pulling on the socks and underwear, he put on the dark blue mule hide trousers, the tough material slightly baggy on his slim form. Letting the trousers begin to droop, he fished out the belt and one of the cotton undershirts he'd bought. Pulling on the white undershirt, he tucked the ends into his trousers and then donned the thick black belt, cinching it tightly.

Thinking for a moment, he decided to put on the forest green tunic, rather than the rich blue one that he'd bought at the same time. About to pull the tunic on, he noticed something he hadn't before. Trailing around the collar and cuffs was a thin delicate pattern of ivy vines, sewn using thread only marginally lighter than the rest of the cloth. It wasn't really important, but it added a touch of elegance that had Rush wondering why it hadn't been priced higher.

Shrugging internally, he put it on, lacing up the front, but leaving it loose enough at the neck to let a little of his undershirt to peek out. Pleased with his overall appearance, he slipped into his new coat, settling it onto his shoulders and investigating the depth of the pockets. After discovering they were much larger than they appeared, he slipped his feet into his comfy new boots, lacing them up tightly and placing his money pouch around his neck, tucking it inside his clothes.

Remembering he still had the Jade orb, he fished it out of his old clothes, and put it in his money pouch, deciding he'd sell it later. Wrapping his previous apparel in the left over paper, he tucked it under his arm and shouldered his bag, slipping out of the bath house.

Getting a double take from the qsiti behind the reception desk (probably due to the world of difference a hot bath and clean clothes made), he stepped outside, dumping his dirty clothes in the nearest alley.

Continuing his exploration of the city, Rush spent hours wandering the streets, trying to get a grasp of the layout, eventually finding himself at the entrance to the main square. Stalls selling souvenirs, herbs and jewellery were scattered throughout, guards stationed at each entrance and exit.

Standing in the centre of the square, the towering form of Valeria Heart shone golden in the sun, ripples of light sliding over its surface. Instinctively balking at the sight of it, Rush avoiding the immediate area around the base of the Valeria Heart, skulking round the edge of the square and garnering a few odd looks from the lounging guards.

Despite its sheer size and the power he could feel coming off of the great blade, it didn't actually feel overly threatening. If anything, the ancient guardian felt oddly benign, despite the possible threat of another Remnant in it's territory. Slightly less nervous than before, Rush still vacated the square quickly, heading further into the city to continue his exploration.

In his wanderings, Rush eventually found himself in one of the oldest parts of the city, the main residential district, collectively known as Virtus Parish according to those he asked.

It was certainly a far cry from the slum district, elaborate wood buildings towering above his head, brightly coloured banners fluttering from the rooftops. The streets here were still fairly narrow, but clean, cobbles worn smooth over the years by thousands of tramping feet.

Finding a small, but cosy looking tavern in amongst the tangle of streets was a godsend, the prospect of a room to himself a wonderful thought, as the hustle and bustle of the streets was starting to get to him.

Yes, he had been craving company for weeks now, but this was just a sensory overload. The sight, sound and smell of so many creatures that would, under other circumstances, be considered as prey was positively dizzying, and even a little threatening, outnumbering him a thousand to one easily. The press of the bustling crowd also left him feeling more than a little claustrophobic after spending so long alone.

Staring up at the sign, two arms wielding crossed swords, and the name 'The Warrior's Honour' emblazoned beneath it, Rush took a deep breath and ducked inside, the smell of cooking food, alcohol and tobacco smoke hitting him the moment he crossed the threshold.

Eyes instantly adjusting to the dimmer light, Rush could see that the tavern was very busy, all but one of the tables occupied. The customers were chatting, laughing and arguing while the two bar maids rushed between tables, removing plates and refilling drinks as they went.

It was mid-day by then, and they must be serving dinner. Squeezing between two tables, each surrounded by muscular yama, Rush made his way over to the bar, catching the eye of the male bartender who was busy serving a qsiti merchant. Passing the merchant his drink, the bartender moved over to where Rush was leaning against the bar, trying not to look too uncomfortable at the amount of people all crushed into one room.

Unknown to the clueless young Remnant, who'd only been in one tavern before, and spent the rest of his time trying to learn the basic nuances of mitra culture so he could attempt to fit in, the bartender was quite the oddity.

He looked to be in his thirties, his body tall and willowy, with shoulder length chestnut hair and warm brown eyes. It was his dress that really made him stand out however. His trousers were tightly fitted, flaring slightly at the ankle, and were a deep navy blue.

His shirt was bright red, loose and baggy, and his waistcoat was a dark yellow, with little wooden buttons painted bright blue, running down one side. His mannerisms were also strange, extravagant hand gestures peppered throughout any conversation, and the odd, altogether feminine manner in which he walked, complete with slight swaying of his hips.

Oblivious to most of this, Rush turned towards the man, hoping to get a room quickly, wanting to get out of this crowded, noisy atmosphere, but before he could say a word, the man spoke first, greeting him with a cheery,

"Welcome to the Warrior's Honour, finest pub and tavern in Virtus Parish! …Oh-ho, you aren't a familiar face, and I'd remember a face as cute as that anywhere…"

Seeing the slightly anxious, confused look Rush was giving him, the man changed tack, giving the young man a friendly smile, brown eyes twinkling in the dim lights.

"So, since you're a new customer, what can I get for you? Drinks, or maybe a hot meal?"

Glancing around the bustling bar once more, Rush shook his head.

"Not right now, but do you have any rooms free? I got here early this morning, and haven't had time to rest since then."

Giving the pale young man a quick appraising look, taking in his too pale skin, and the beginning of dark circles under his eyes, the bartender clucked in sympathy, reaching across the bar to pat Rush's hand, ignoring the startled look he got in return.

"You poor dear, you must be exhausted! As it so happens, you're in luck, we have two rooms left, though for a cutie like you, we always have a room free."

Detaching a set of keys from his belt, the man gestured towards a set of stairs beside the bar, before leading him up to the very top of the building, unlocking a plain wooden door, with a small plaque bearing the number 9 nailed to it's surface.

"There we are, nothing fancy, but the sheets are clean and it's nice and quiet up here, something you look like you need right now."

Unhooking a key from the large ring, the bartender handed it to Rush.

"This is the key to your room, be sure not to loose it. As you're new in Athlum, you get the room for nothing tonight, but you'll still have to pay for any food and drink you take. After tonight, it's twenty coppers per night, plus any meals. Oh, and just so you know, if you have any questions at all, about the tavern or Athlum in general, you come straight to me, and you'll get an answer."

Rush nodded in thanks as the man turned and headed back downstairs, feeling rather bemused at the flirtatious wink the bartender sent him just as he turned away.

Deciding not to dwell on the strange behaviour of that mitra, Rush inspected his room, locking the door behind him.

The walls were simple, whitewashed plaster, no pictures, but there was a long shelf that ran along the back wall. The window was small, but through it, he could see a good portion of the city, Athlum castle rising in the distance. Closer than the castle, the large shape of Valeria Heart dominated the skyline, the blue lamps set into the cross guard of the mighty blade visible even in full daylight.

Abandoning the window, Rush dumped his knapsack on the lone chair the room provided, and hung his coat on the hook nailed to the back of the door. Standing for a moment in the middle of the room, the boy relished the relative silence, the sounds from below heavily muted by the thick wood floor.

Breathing deeply, he finally felt himself begin to relax, away from the constant activity of the city around him. Giving in to the temptation of an afternoon nap, the teen stripped out of his tunic and undershirt and flopped onto the bed, curling up on the surprisingly soft sheets.

Drifting on the edge of sleep Rush could feel the giant Remnants watchful presence, and unlike before, found it comforting, echoing back to when he was very young, and protected from the terrors of the world.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Meanwhile, the hospital where Emmy had been taken was in an uproar. Emmy had been recognised quickly by the attending healers, and a messenger had been sent up to the castle. The young Lord Nassau was away on an army campaign against the ever increasing population of beastmen however, a series of recent raids against outlying settlements a serious cause for concern.

Three of the Athlumian generals accompanied him, General Pagus staying behind to see to the running of Athlum in Lord David's absence. Upon receiving the message, Pagus hurried down to the hospital, his status as a master healer demanding that he confirm the full extent of the young woman's injuries.

Examining the young Miss Honeywell, and conferring with the other healers, Pagus set to work, undertaking the delicate task of removing the dagger. Since they didn't know the shape of the blade, they had to assume the worst case scenario and further enlarge the wound to properly extract the weapon.

As it turned out, they needn't have worried, for the metal was perfectly smooth and straight. Emmy was exceptionally lucky though, for the flat of the blade was actually touching the brachial artery, and one wrong movement could have spelled her death.

Flushing the wound with a cleaning solution and beginning the healing process was a simple, but time consuming procedure. The wound, because of its depth, would have to be healed in stages over a period of two weeks, to allow the new tissue growth to strengthen, and to prevent any pockets of infection developing within the new flesh.

Examining the shoulder wound had left them with a bit of a conundrum. It wasn't infected, so why was she feverish? Testing her blood for any toxins that might explain this turned up several interesting anomalies.

She seemed to be suffering from the after effects of serious poisoning, though only minute traces of poison were found in her blood, and even those were rapidly decaying in a way none of the doctors or healers could explain. This result directly contradicted the residue from what should have been a lethal poison found coating the dagger. Further examination also found Emmy to be suffering from the fading symptoms of mild paralysis…

Needing answers, Pagus set about finding out as much detail as possible from the healers who were first to see Emmy. The mention of the boy who was with her when the healers first arrived caught the general's attention.

He had apparently been injured, and looked to be fairly exhausted, but didn't appear to be in pain or overly concerned about himself. Indeed, he had disappeared at the first opportunity, 'escaping' before he could be examined or treated. The young man had given a rudimentary explanation for her injuries, saying bandits had been the cause.

This didn't fit with the pattern of wounds she had sustained, for bandits never used poison, relying on speed and stealth to ambush their victims. They either killed or left their victims alive, but minus all their valuables.

It couldn't have been bandits though, because Athlumian soldiers regularly patrolled the route from Athlum to Celapaleis, flushing out any brigands and bandits they came across. Despite this knowledge, the diminutive General also dispatched guards to find and question the merchants who had taken the two to Athlum.

If the guards could find where Emmy and the boy had been picked up, they had more of a chance at finding the scene where the fight had taken place. If Emmy had been able to kill at least a few of her attackers, there would be some kind of evidence, even just signs of a struggle.

Knowing that there was more to Emmy's wounds than a bandit attack, and feeling concern over the boy's possible injuries, Pagus had a description of him circulated to all the guards within the city, with orders to follow and observe him.

If the boy was still in the city and he could be found, then the guards should be able to find where he was staying, and corner him without the risk of him escaping. Normally Pagus wouldn't use such harsh methods to get answers, but Pagus had a gut feeling that this boy had something to do with Emmy's wounds.

Whether that meant he had a hand in inflicting them and had felt guilty, or was just a witness, Pagus didn't know. Either way, he knew more than he had told, and Pagus, as a trusted friend of her mother and Emmy's unofficial uncle, had a duty to find the answers.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Review please! :3


	7. Encounters of the Unusual Kind

**AN: Important. Please read.**

I'm back! \o/ I am so, desperately sorry for that huge absence, but it was very much unavoidable. In December the UK had absolutely terrible weather, snow several feet deep, which we're really not used to, and I managed to catch a nasty chest infection. On top of that I slipped on ice during a visit to the doctors (oh the irony) and managed to crack a couple of ribs. Severe coughing plus fractured ribs does not a healthy person make. The infection persisted through three courses of antibiotics and during that time I managed to do quite a bit of damage to the soft tissue around the broken ribs. So, I've been doped up to the eyeballs on pain medication (tramadol, 600 mg x_X) for the whole of January. (Takes a deep breath) Because of THAT, I missed quite a bit of college and several very important visits, at the worst possible time. I've been spending all my time since January working my fingers off trying to catch up on the missed work plus keeping tabs on the current classes. This is the first bit of free time I've had, so I could finally polish and post this woefully overdue chapter.

_Previously_

_If the boy was still in the city and he could be found, then the guards should be able to find where he was staying, and corner him without the risk of him escaping. Normally Pagus wouldn't use such harsh methods to get answers, but Pagus had a gut feeling that this boy had something to do with Emmy's wounds._

_Whether that meant he had a hand in inflicting them and had felt guilty, or was just a witness, Pagus didn't know. Either way, he knew more than he had told, and Pagus, as a trusted friend of her mother and Emmy's unofficial uncle, had a duty to find the answers._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Waking to the softness of a real bed was much nicer than the cold hard ground he'd become used to. Stretching luxuriously, back arching like a languid cat, Rush sat up and stared around the room, wondering for a moment why he was lying on a bed, rather than the ground outside.

Memory of yesterdays events quickly returning, Rush leapt out of bed and bounded over to the window to look outside. Sure enough, it seemed his nap had turned into a whole nights rest, as it was now mid morning at least. He must have been more tired than he'd realised.

Cleaning up at the washstand in one corner, Rush pulled on the same clothes from yesterday, seeing no need change them after only a few hours of exploring. Shrugging on his coat he thought for a moment, but decided to leave his bag in the room.

Tucking his money pouch under his shirt, the young man grabbed his room key and made his way down to the bar to grab something to eat.

Reaching the last step, Rush glanced around, surprised and a little relieved that the bar wasn't nearly as busy as it had been yesterday. There were only a few mitra and a small party of qsiti occupying the tables, leaving much more breathing space.

Moving over to the bar, Rush noted the absence of the bartender from last night, and asked the young man, no, the teenager polishing the gleaming wood counter what they had to eat. The boy in question was rather short, with dirty blonde hair and a pinched, mousey face, acne pitting the skin.

Looking up, the teen quickly smothered the annoyed look on his face, dropping the cloth under the bar. Blinking at the small, polite, but obviously false smile he was given, Rush listened as the mitra rattled off a list of different dishes that the Remnant struggled to decipher.

The mitra's accent was very different from what he was used to, the sounds oddly discordant, each word a harsh bark that ran into the next with barely a pause in between. It was still the same language, for he could make out some words, but with that accent it might as well have been another altogether.

Feeling more than a little silly, Rush realised he was staring at the boy with a nonplussed expression. Heaving a longsuffering sigh that spoke of many such reactions in the past, the boy pointed to a chalkboard hanging on the wall near the door, before turning away in obvious dismissal.

Irritated at the blatant snub, Rush swallowed a growl as he stalked over to the board he hadn't noticed the night before. It wasn't placed very well, hanging right in the entryway, so that when the door was opened, the board would be hidden behind it.

Standing in front of the door, Rush looked over the menu, frowning when he only recognised some of the dishes. Unknown to Rush, he was lucky they even had a written menu, as many common folk were largely illiterate. Most small villages were lucky if they had even one person who knew how to read, and learning to write was only something the higher class citizens could afford to do.

Choosing something he knew, Rush gave the surly teen his order, a spicy basilisk meat broth and thick crusty bread, and took his meal over to a table in the corner, near the window.

Only a moment after he sat down, he heard the door thrown open with such a loud bang he nearly fell out of his seat. Looking for the source of the commotion he got another surprise, as the two oddest looking yama he'd ever seen came walking into the bar. The smaller of the two followed closely behind the other, one hand gripping the yama in front while the other held a stout walking staff.

The larger of the two had smooth grey-brown scales covering most of his body, giving way to lighter, creamy pale skin on his chest and neck. His dorsal fin and tail were unusually short, with streaks of dark russet red going through the delicate skin of the fins, but the strangest thing had to be the presence of two short, curved horns, or tusks, growing on either side of his mouth.

At first Rush thought they were just part of his helmet, a leather and metal skullcap which dipped right down between his eyes. He was proved wrong however, when the yama undid the strap under his chin and tossed the helmet onto a nearby table, tusks still standing out proudly from his face.

Most of his armour was made of thick reinforced leather dyed in Athlumian colours, but the bright silver glint of scale mail covered his shoulders and arms. He was probably an off duty soldier, though his armour was slightly different than the guards Rush had seen yesterday.

The smaller yama holding his hand was even more unusual, and seconds later he found out why, picking up their scents as the draft from the door carried them through the air. As hinted at by her looks, the smaller of the two was a female. If she had been a mitra or qsiti this wouldn't have been odd, but yama females were notoriously secretive, and it was unheard of to see one in the open like this.

Yama females were considerably different from their male counterparts, size being just one difference. Going by her scent, and the lack of any spicy-sweet adult pheromones, Rush would have to say that the female was still just a child. At first glance she certainly didn't look like a child, being an inch or so taller than Rush, and about twice as wide.

In comparison to the male with her however, she looked much smaller, despite standing straighter. Her back was much less hunched than the males, and she had quite a narrow waist for a yama. Her scales were a pale, silvery-pink, with darker dusky pink markings on her neck and sides.

Her chest and neck had the same creamy-pale skin as the other yama, but her tail and dorsal fins were much longer, the skin on both fins a deep rouge. To his surprise, none of the people in the bar batted an eyelash at the pair's sudden entrance, a couple of the mitra even calling out greetings to the pair.

Busying himself with the rest of his food, Rush watched out of the corner of his eye as the big male led the smaller female to a table near the window, right next to the one occupied by the curious Remnant, and guided her carefully into a seat.

The reason he was being so careful was obvious, the little female was crippled. Her legs were bent and oddly angular, encased tightly in metal support frames to help her walk. The wooden staff was also another support, far thicker than a normal staff to prevent it bending or breaking under a yama's considerable weight.

The sound of the spoon dinging against his now empty bowl pulled him out of his contemplation, but also attracted the attention of the female, who turned towards the sound, not having noticed that someone was so close. Feeling eyes perusing his body was more than a little unnerving for the young man, so he stood up to return his dirty bowls, not knowing he could just leave them to be tidied up by the staff currently on duty.

"Don't go yet, please."

Pausing, Rush turned to look at the yama in surprise, not expecting her to speak to a complete stranger like him.

"I've never seen you around here before, and I know most of the regulars that visit the Warrior's Honour. If you're not a regular… then you must be a traveller!"

Her face lighting up as she said this, the yama leaned towards him, her eagerness vibrating against his skin at this distance.

"Do you know any tales about General Blocter?"

Completely thrown for a loop by the yama's overly friendly behaviour, Rush didn't notice the other yama coming up behind him, and started violently when a huge hand clapped him on the shoulder, barely biting back a sharp hiss of surprise.

"Hey kid, you're kinda jumpy, aren't ya? Don't mind my little sis here, she loves pestering people for stories, 'specially travellers."

Looking up at the yama left Rush feeling exceptionally small and weak in comparison, for though yama were always big, this male was larger than any he'd seen so far. He nearly topped eight feet in height, and those tusks added an edge of fierceness that other yama just didn't have.

Realising he was staring, Rush immediately averted his eyes, still off balance from the yama's unexpected friendliness. Feeling the big male's hand disappear from his shoulder, Rush glanced briefly back up, only to be met with an understanding expression from both siblings.

"You don't need to be embarrassed, big brother makes everyone feel small. He might look scary, but he's a big softy at heart."

Finishing with a big smile, the small female patted the seat next to her invitingly.

"Let's start over again, my name's Rheanna, though everyone calls me Rhea, and this is my big brother Baulson. He's a soldier in the Athlumian army, but he's doing guard duty for now, so that's why he isn't chasing after beastmen with the generals and the other soldiers. So, now you know our names, what's yours?"

Still not quite sure where this was going, Rush none the less found himself sinking onto the proffered seat while the other male, Baulson, sat opposite.

"…My name is Rush. You're right, I suppose I am a traveller of sorts, I only got into Athlum yesterday. I don't really know what's been happening here, so what did you mean, chasing beastmen?"

Rheanna looked surprised at this, giving him a scrutinising stare.

"I guess that kinda explains why you don't know, but really... The army, Lord Nassau and three of the four generals are all away on a campaign against the beastmen. Those monsters have been attacking villages for months now, the army has been gone for at least a month, and this is the first you've heard of it? You must have been living in the middle of nowhere to have missed that kind of news!"

Sighing in gentle exasperation, Baulson shifted back to let a waitress deposit the food he'd ordered onto the table.

"C'mon Rhea, give the kid a break. It isn't as though Athlum is the centre of the world or anything, there'll be plenty of people who don't know that. Anyway grub's up, so more eating and less talking."

Rhea made a face at this, but before tucking in, she looked at Rush again.

"Hey Rush, will you be staying here long? If you are, then maybe we can talk again. I'd like that, and so would big brother. I could tell you about Athlum, and you could tell me about your travels!"

Smiling slightly at her enthusiasm, Rush nodded.

"I… I think I'd like that too. I'm not sure when I'll be leaving, but I should be here for another few days at least. Anyway, I'd better leave you to it… see you later."

Making that his cue to leave, Rush got up and nodded politely to the siblings, gathering his bowls and taking them to the counter, not noticing the speculative look that crossed Baulson's face, and unaware of the basic sketch of his own face that resided in the yama's pocket, given out less than an hour ago by the Captain of the guard.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Strolling through the streets some time later, Rush made his way towards the square, deciding to do a little people watching. It was a habit of his that he'd picked up before going to Darken forest. It served to pass the time, and it let him learn more about basic social interactions, which he still wasn't the best at.

Casting a slightly wary glance at the Valeria Heart when he entered the plaza, Rush settled on the side of the wide marble steps in the northernmost part of the square.

Gazing out at the bustling people, he found himself thinking how different it was to Veyriel, where only about a hundred and fifty Remnants had lived at any one time. It had been much quieter than this city, the pace of living much slower than the frenetic speed that seemed to possess everyone in this place.

Just thinking about those differences filled him with a deep sense of homesickness, wishing for nothing more than to be able to go home, missing the sound of the ocean surf sweeping over the beaches, the sweet smells of the alpine meadows he used to play in.

Lost in his contemplations, he didn't notice the nearest guards watching him covertly, though as per their instructions, they merely observed the oblivious boy.

The sound of approaching laughter broke him out of his musings, and he looked up just in time to see a gaggle of children come barrelling over the lip of the stairs behind him. They were an even mix of mitra and qsiti, probably around eight years old with an older teen trudging along behind them, looking very put out.

Not willing to be trampled by the screaming hoard, Rush stood off to one side, the children scrambling past him without so much as a backward glance. Watching them start up a game of sorts in the middle of the square, Rush went to retake his seat but was surprised to see a tiny figure standing by his leg, staring up at him with undisguised curiosity.

The little qsiti certainly can't have been older than five, and barely reached his knee, small even for a qsiti. The child looked positively comical, his ears so long he could nearly stand on them, eyes huge as he stared at Rush.

Wearing a knitted green jumper that was just a bit too big, he clutched a very worn looking toy raptor, stuffing peeping between the seams in some places, a scarf, mittens and bobble hat completing the picture. His mother must have been worried about him catching a cold, even though the weather was still quite mild.

After five solid minutes of staring, the tiny child seemed to make up his mind about something, and piped up in a small, high pitched voice.

"Hello mister mitra."

Confused by the little being's interest in him, Rush just stared at the expectant upturned face before stammering a reply.

"Ah… hello, little… kid."

Looking pleased, the child positively beamed up at him, bouncing on his toes.

"My mummy calls me Mikki, what're you called?"

Thinking it was rather cute the way the kid was concentrating on saying the words properly, Rush found his lips twitching upwards at the corners.

"People call me Rush. What are you doing over here on your own, don't you want to play with your friends?"

Smile drooping after he said this, the tiny qsiti hugged his toy tighter, looking over at the older children.

"They don't like me, they say I'm too little to play. They just ig, ign… pretend I'm not there."

Sniffing in a way that had alarm bells ringing in the young Remnant's head, the small boy stared down at his feet, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"I'm not too little, I'm not! They're just too big, and mean…"

Voice sounding suspiciously thick, the qsiti sniffled quietly, thin shoulders drooping under the jumper. Crouching so that he was nearer to the little boy's eye level (though he was still looking down on the kid even then), Rush tried to give some form of comfort, feeling quite awkward.

"Hey, c'mon now, don't get upset, even if they think you're too small now, you'll grow. You've still got a lot of growing to do, and you never know, you might end up taller than some of them."

Looking up, the tiny qsiti stared at him, eyes shiny and wet with building tears.

"I know I'll get big, but I want to play now. I won't be big for ages and ages. I just want them to be nice…"

Grimacing at the thought of dealing with an outburst of tears, Rush glanced around hurriedly, hoping to see something to distract the upset child. Eyes' alighting on one of the shop stands surrounding the square, he felt inspiration strike.

"Hey um… Mikki. How about we go over there and look at that stall, it's got lots of nice things to look at, and maybe if you see something nice we could get it?"

Wiping his nose on his sleeve, the tiny child looked up to where he was pointing, and he visibly perked up upon seeing the toy and sweet laden stall. Slipping his own hand into the young Remnants, the little qsiti trotted over to the stall, poor Rush nearly bent double in order to maintain contact with the tiny being.

When they reached the stall Mikki let go and started to jump up and down, trying to see over the edge of the table. Considering how small he was, this was a wasted effort. So he turned to look at Rush, eyes round and pleading, not even needing to ask to communicate the desire to be lifted up to see.

Genuinely surprised at the level of trust this child, little more than a baby in his eyes, was showing, he glanced around surreptitiously, half expecting the teenage minder to be storming over to retake his charge. But no, it looked like the teen hadn't even noticed he was missing one, looking half asleep on top of the short wall surrounding the base of Valeria Heart.

Anything could be happening and that boy wouldn't even notice. Rush could've easily been someone else, with far darker intentions, as he'd overheard many unsavoury things from his travels that could happen to unattended children.

Frowning at this lack of care over something as precious as a child, Rush turned and in one smooth movement scooped the little qsiti into his arms, smiling at the answering giggle.

"Well then, let's see what goodies we can find!"

Some twenty minutes later Mikki was swerving between a bulging bag of barley sugar sweets and a plush spiritlord so big he'd have to carry it in both arms. Looking longingly at both of them, it seemed that he just couldn't choose between the two. Seeing the torn expression, Rush pondered how much money he had in his pouch, because he'd grown surprisingly fond of the little kid even in such a short time.

"Eh, I'll be a devil and take both of them."

Flipping a gold coin at the vendor (probably worth more than the two items actually cost), he grabbed the toy and passed the sweets to Mikki, who was practically bouncing in excitement, eyes huge at the prospect of getting both things instead of just one.

Carrying him over to the wall where the oblivious minder lay, Rush plopped him down, but not before two tiny arms wrapped around his neck in an overenthusiastic hug.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

The ecstatic little qsiti was practically beaming as Rush handed him his new toy, barely able to keep still. Smiling at the display, the young Remnant patted him on the head.

"Now that that's done, I'm afraid I've got to go. I have something very important to do now, so stay here and play with your new feathered friend until it's time to go home, okay?"

Big smile fading at those words, Mikki looked ready to protest, unhappy that his other new friend was going away so soon.

"Don't be sad, I've got to go and see another friend at the hospital who's been hurt. I want to make sure they get better."

Face screwing up slightly, the little qsiti nevertheless nodded resolutely.

"Okay mister Rush."

Pausing for a moment, Mikki turned to look at his new toy, then leaned in as if he was listening to it.

"Oh! Birdy says bye-bye too, and that your friend gets better."

Raising a brow at the new toys very… practical name, Rush smiled, gave a little wave, then set off across the square to one of the exits.

After the third dead end street, Rush was about ready to take to the rooftops to find the stupid hospital. He thought he could remembered the route he'd taken yesterday, but obviously he must have gotten turned around somewhere, for he was now hopelessly lost.

Looking for someone to ask for directions was also turning into an exercise in frustration, for the few people he'd already asked either ignored him or said they didn't know. Just about ready to forget the whole endeavour and climb the nearest building, Rush spotted someone down a short side alley.

Figuring he'd give it one more go, he called out to them as he approached.

"Hey, excuse me! Can you tell me the way to the hospital from here, I seem to be a bit lost."

Getting no reply, he frowned. The figure seemed to be leaning over slightly as though they were busy with something. He could see the figure was female, wearing some sort of spiky edged corset top and low slung reinforced trousers. Not thinking too much into it, Rush stopped behind her and reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Excuse me… whoa!"

Leaping backwards, he barely missed the large shape that blurred past his head and slammed into the wall of the adjacent building, splintering the wood upon impact. The moment he'd touched her shoulder, the woman had spun round and swung at him with what appeared to be a giant war hammer.

"The Hell?"

Scrambling away, he barely missed another swing from that beast of a weapon.

"What was that for!"

Pausing between swings, the woman looked him up and down, frowning, then planted her hammer on the ground.

"You don't look like you're from the Academy, you're just a kid. Go away and leave me alone, what did you want anyway?"

Busy trying not to hyperventilate from a safe distance away, Rush just eyed her as though he half expected her to take another swing at him.

"Well? I don't have all day kid! Either say your bit or get going!"

Not sure what to think of the crazy lady and her hammer he answered nonetheless.

"I was _going_ to ask for directions to the hospital before you tried to smash my head in."

Blinking at that rather mundane answer, she huffed then rattled off a string of directions. When he didn't move from his spot, she hefted the hammer threateningly.

"I told you what you wanted, so get going! Scat!" Giving her another funny look, he turned and loped off down the street, not wanting to be anywhere near that hammer wielding madwoman.

Standing concealed in a small side street just across from the hospital a short while later, Rush could at least say that her directions were reliable, ever if her mental state was still in question. Putting her out of his mind, Rush pondered how he was going to do this.

He couldn't just walk in and ask to see Emmy, no doubt they wouldn't let random people off the street in to see the Honeywell heir. She'd probably be guarded, or at least in a private room, and if by chance the healer from before spotted him, they would want to question him about what exactly happened.

No, his best chance was to wait until tonight, then sneak in and sense her location. He should be familiar enough with the feel of her soul to pick her out, and once he'd checked on her he could then decide if he wanted to leave town or not. Unwilling to risk losing the hospital again in the warren of streets if he went back to the Warrior's Honour, he decided to settle in and wait.

Finding a convenient drainpipe and checking he would be unobserved, Rush shimmied up the side of a building and out of sight of any passersby. Curling up in a convenient dip in the roof made by two connecting buildings, he pillowed his head on his arms and tried to dose to pass the time until he could move.

Stretching cramped muscles several hours later, Rush looked up at the swiftly darkening sky. It was about time for him to get this over with. Peering over the edge of the roof, he scanned the nearly empty side street to check he wouldn't be seen coming down. There looked to be one guard making his way along the road, thankfully facing the opposite direction from Rush, so he shouldn't see anything as long as the teen was quiet.

Sliding carefully down the same drainpipe he took to get up there, he had to make a quick drop into the shadows as one of the iron brackets protested loudly at his weight. Holding his breath, Rush peered out of the shadows at the patrolling guard, hoping against hope that he hadn't heard anything. Thankfully, he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the guard at the far end of the street, apparently oblivious to the young Remnants presence.

Eyes and ears open to any sound or movement, Rush crept through the shadows towards the hospital, looking for a way to get inside without anyone knowing. Crossing the street in a quick dash, he stopped at the base of one of the large trees growing beside the hospital.

Unable to detect anyone watching, Rush launched himself into the lower branches of the tree, easily making the seven foot jump straight up. If he'd guessed correctly, he should be able to get in on the third floor, where it was more likely that the private rooms were located.

Climbing into the uppermost branches, Rush found he could easily access the third floor windows, which was perfect. Peering into the nearest darkened window, he stretched his senses into the room beyond, lucky to find it unoccupied. Easing the window open, he slid inside, listening intently for any sound that might betray a nurse making her rounds.

Hearing nothing but the usual minor sounds, he crossed the room and opened the inner door that led to the corridor. Glancing up and down the dim hallway, he cautiously made his way along the corridor, feeling for Emmy's presence. About halfway along, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was the sound of footsteps from a room near the end of the hall.

Opening the nearest door he slipped inside, not making a sound to betray his presence. With his enhanced vision he could easily see the shape of a female mitra leave one of the rooms, and disappear down one of the adjoining corridors. Happy with his assumption that the female must have been a nurse, he continued feeling out the nearby rooms occupants.

By luck, the same room the nurse had vacated was the one where he found Emmy fast asleep, probably due to painkillers or some other drug. Entering cautiously he crept over to the head of the bed, ignoring the clipboard with all its medical jargon (which he wouldn't understand anyway). Using a much simpler method to ascertain her health, he leant over her upper body and focused all his senses on her, in a sense 'reading' her spirit, listening to her heart and the rhythm of her body.

She seemed to be on the mend, all traces of the poison and his power gone from her system. Her head wound had also been healed, a faint residue of magic still lingering around the area. She was still slightly fevered, though that was also much less than what it had been the day before. Looking at her shoulder wound showed that it had begun healing at the deepest point, the rest of the deep puncture stuffed with some kind of herbal poultice to stave off infection.

Such focus however meant he was too distracted to hear the muffled footfalls nearing Emmy's room. When the door opened he was caught completely by surprise, his head jerking up to meet the startled gaze of the female he'd thought was a nurse, carrying a glass of water. Caught red-handed, he stayed frozen for several precious seconds, long enough for the female to have shouted for help if she'd wanted.

The puzzling thing was she didn't, seemingly frozen in place with shock, staring at Rush as though she had never seen anything like him before. Backing slowly away from Emmy, he stared at the intruder, instinctively noting what few features were visible in the pale moonlight.

He could see she was short and pale skinned, maybe mid teens at the oldest, with dark shoulder length hair and large eyes. Beyond that he had to guess, colour and other proportions warped by the pale silver light and deep shadows.

Breaking the silence with words that made his throat constrict with fear, the girl finally spoke in a hushed, very confused tone.

"What… who are you? What are you doing in this room?"

After another brief pause where he fumbled for words, the girl continued, sounding slightly less confused, but also curious.

"You… you feel just like a Remnant, but you look like a mitra. How is that possible?"

Thoughts screeching to a half at that deeply alarming sentence, Rush didn't even realise that he'd started to back up until he bumped into the wall behind him. Still looking disbelievingly at him, the girl moved further into the room, her stare oddly penetrating.

Feeling rooted to the spot by her intense gaze, he found himself unable to move away even when she stopped a scant two feet away. Panic making his breath catch and heart beat faster, Rush remained frozen while she reached out to touch him.

The moment her finger touched his face, the strange spell was broken and he knew exactly what she was. Before, she had felt normal, but as soon as she made physical contact it was like she lit up from within, seemingly delicate blue-white power blazing out across all his senses.

Shocked to his senses, Rush finally bolted for the door, knocking the young Marshal off her feet as he ran to the room where he'd entered, the forgotten glass of water smashing when it hit the floor.

Ignoring the soft cry of pain and the startled "Wait!" that followed him he leapt straight out the window, shooting down the tree and hitting the ground running. Unfortunately he did so right in front of a trio of guards, who quickly gave chase once they realised where he had just exited.

Thoughts in a whirl, he didn't think to use his power to speed up his escape, just wanting to get away from the hospital and that girl. He just ran, fear biting at his heels at the thought of a Marshal having found out what he was, and what she could do if he were caught.

Ah yes, the cry of pain from Irina wasn't because of her falling, she tried to follow Rush and stood on some broken glass, in case anyone was wondering.

Any reviews go towards the feeding of my half starved muse.


	8. Dungeons and a new Danger

AN: A warning for implied gore and nastiness later on in the chapter, when it switches to our antagonist.

_Previously_

_Ignoring the soft cry of pain and the startled "Wait!" that followed him he leapt straight out the window, shooting down the tree and hitting the ground running. Unfortunately he did so right in front of a trio of guards, who quickly gave chase once they realised where he had just exited._

_Thoughts in a whirl, he didn't think to use his power to speed up his escape, just wanting to get away from the hospital and that girl. He just ran, fear biting at his heels at the thought of a Marshal having found out what he was, and what she could do if he were caught._

ooooooooooooooooo

Racing through the side streets with a growing contingent of guards hot on his heels, Rush cursed at the amount of people out at this time of night. Just a few streets away from the hospital there had been much more people on the streets. Even worse they were all seemingly determined to get in his way, forcing him to dodge between them and losing precious time and speed as he did.

Only now did he think about using his power to get away, but if he used any Remnant ability to make escape easier he risked hurting them. Valeria Heart, as docile as it had seemed so far, probably wouldn't let him escape unpunished if his actions did cause hurt.

Hoping to lose his pursuers in the narrow twisting alleys, he took a sharp turn and dived between the two nearest buildings, running pell-mell through the maze of passages. The alleys were nearly pitch black, the sun having vanished some time ago.

The only light was from the occasional bracketed torch placed at the intersections between some passages. The shadows they caused however only seemed to enhance the almost nightmarish quality of Rush's situation.

Even with his sharper eyesight he had difficulty avoiding the boxes, barrels and uneven cobblestones that had the mitra guards tripping and stumbling. Some of the qsiti even managed to gain on the boy, their smaller size allowing them to move faster than their larger counterparts.

Rounding one corner after the other Rush finally hit an obstacle the guards couldn't cross, a towering pile of heavy crates nearly ten feet tall. It was too precariously balanced to climb, and the crates too heavy to push over without the danger of injuring people, even with a yama's considerable strength.

With the ease of practice the boy tensed his legs, crouched and leapt at the wall beside the crates, feet barely touching the surface before he pushed off, rebounding up and over the pile. The guards hot on his heels were left cursing at his display, with no choice but to backtrack and hope to catch him at another point. Luckily for them it was actually quite likely due to their prior knowledge of the city.

With no idea where he was going or if he had even lost the guards, Rush kept running, doubling back occasionally when he hit dead ends. After what seemed an age, he burst out onto the main street just south of the plaza square.

From here he could just high-tail it to the gates and be out before anyone was the wiser… or that would have been the plan had he not barrelled into a veritable wall of people.

Skidding to a stop he gazed around in confusion, for what looked to be the entire population of Athlum was lining the street, talking, laughing and cheering for some reason Rush was not aware of. Scanning the sea of people he began to force his way through, too busy searching nervously for any sign of those guards to even notice when he trod on unprotected qsiti toes and yama tails.

The somewhat scattered cheering suddenly became a roar of enthused voices that rippled through the crowd like a wave, making him flinch in reaction as he was hemmed in on all sides. The tightly packed bodies pressed against him, emotion and sound battering his already fraying nerves.

He still couldn't see what was happening to warrant this display, and right now he really couldn't care as he spotted three guards shift into sight a few metres away in the crowd. Nervousness turning to panic in the near deafening crush of people, he fought against the instinct to just throw them all away with a pulse of power, but he dearly needed a clear space so he could _move_!

Not thinking beyond getting out of the crowd he started to fight his way towards the clear space in the middle of the road, pushing past people without much care as to the force he used.

Hearing the sharp whistle of a guard behind him send him bolting into the crush, knocking people aside as his panic grew in leaps and bounds. It wasn't meant to be like this! There were too many people, too much noise and too many feelings pounding at him from all sides for him to think straight.

Seriously panicking and nearly hyperventilating due to the overload of sensations, he didn't see the qsiti child he tripped over as he burst free from the crowd. Staggering, he fell headlong into another person's chest, knocking the wind out of them and sending them both to the ground.

Barely noticing the warm mitra body under him, he tried to get to his feet, but tangled his legs with the person he'd knocked over and went down again, the feel of a thick silk coat and soft cotton arm warmers barely registering.

Looking up he caught the other's eye and froze, just for a moment, before a guard's cry rang above the excited noise of the crowd.

"Stop that boy, don't let him get away! He broke into the private ward of the hospital!"

The weary but curious blue-grey gaze that held Rush's own hardened at this, and before the boy knew what was happening he was being pulled to his feet, his arms locked behind his back and an arm pressed against his throat by the man he had knocked down.

Too frantic by the thought of being caught and caged to consider what he did next, the young Remnant twisted his head and bit down, _**hard**_, on the hand nearest his face. During the chase his body, primed by instinct and adrenaline, had also been releasing larger than usual amounts of a special and very potent chemical into his saliva. This now entered the wounds he made in the other's skin. The strength of desperation let him tear straight through thin cotton and into soft skin, the taste of blood a sharp splash of copper on his tongue.

The bite didn't last long, but the sheer unexpectedness of the move caused the man to pull back, allowing Rush to wrench free. He didn't make it more than a few metres however before Valeria Heart reacted, a silent ripple of force sending him to his knees as it wrapped around him like a heavy shroud, blocking his power and paralysing his limbs. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, he collapsed limply to the ground.

Unable to move, unable to even open his eyes, he could only lie there and listen to the awed crowd as they saw the gargantuan Remnant pulse brightly above their heads like a beacon. He heard the guards push through the crush of people, some heading in his direction. Other loud voices were shouting for the confused spectators to keep back, to not crowd his Lordship and the Generals (now Rush was even more confused, weren't they out killing beastmen?).

Fighting back pure unadulterated panic, he felt thickly muscled arms lift him up, the arms of a yama, while a hushed explanation was given to what sounded like a superior officer.

Listening to the crowd, he picked up snippets of conversations, and began to piece together what was going on, and it wasn't good news for him. Apparently he'd run right into the middle of the people welcoming the army back from it's campaign, which also meant the Lord of the city and his other three generals.

While he had been dosing on the relative seclusion of that rooftop, messengers had arrived in the city and spread the news that the army would be returning tonight. Hence the crowded streets. What was worse, the man he'd bowled over had been Lord Nassau himself! Rush really didn't see how this could get worse…

oooooooooooooo

Coming home to see his beloved city and hear his people's gladdened cries after months of nothing but sleepless nights, bloody battlefields and death, it was like a balm on his soul. Weary, battered, bloody he may be, but none of it mattered now that he was home.

Though his sword was hanging like a dead weight at his waist and his body smelled of little else except sweat and blood, the young Lord held his back straight and shoulders set as the army marched gratefully into the city. Some of the soldiers peeled off into the crowd to greet family and return home.

True, not all had returned, but this would be a night of celebration for those who did, the following days reserved for rest and mourning of the deceased. Feeling the weight of exhaustion nipping at his heals, the young Lord felt the presence of his eldest general close at his back. He was quite an unusual sight, a relatively young (for his race) Sovani named Torgal who had served the Nassau family unswervingly for eighty years.

With only a brief glance and a small tilt of the head the Sovani nodded and stepped back, snagging one of the messengers still milling about to give him instructions to bring to the castle.

Too relaxed and weary to notice a small commotion happening in the crowd, David Nassau was thoroughly shocked when a brown coated blur shot out of the bystanders nearest him and crashed headlong into his body, sending them both to the ground. Barely given time to react he felt the figure on top of him try to stand, only to get it's legs tangled and collapse onto his chest.

Staring at it, at _him_ he deduced, as he felt no definition or curves on the chest pressed against his own, he caught the impression of wild dark hair, a pale frightened face and large, almost iridescent eyes. The boy froze when David met his gaze, the stranger's eyes shifting between the tumultuous grey of storm clouds and a strange, glittering green that seemed otherworldly in the flickering torchlight that lit the main thoroughfare.

Feeling almost unable to look away for several seconds, the spell was broken when a voice boomed out from the crowd, denouncing the boy as a criminal. Eyes hardening, David rolled to his feet, bringing the boy with him and putting him in a choke hold before he could struggle.

Short of kicking, there wasn't much the boy could do, though David revised his opinion of that when the boy did the most unexpected thing and actually bit him, teeth going straight through his arm coverings. Shock more than anything made David loosen his hold, and the boy pulled free with surprising strength, bolting away.

He didn't get far, for Valeria Heart flared to life in an instant, it's power a heavy, tangible thing that swept through the crowd. It closed in on the boy swiftly before vanishing as quickly as it came, leaving the young man to crumple mid stride, limp as a rag doll.

Surprised at the Remnant's intervention, David turned his eyes from the prone figure to the bleeding marks on his hand. Stripping off the cotton, he inspected the bite, still oozing blood. It had been quite a forceful bite, so he'd probably have a nasty bruise in a few hours… Just as he saw Torgal appear by his side, an odd bout of dizziness swept through him, everything swaying alarmingly.

Staggering at the abrupt loss of equilibrium, he felt a hand appear on his shoulder, the voices of the crowd and his generals becoming muted and distorted. His hand throbbed alarmingly and he felt his whole body relaxing against his will, an unnatural languor winding down his limbs. At the same time he felt his legs give way, dark spots creeping across his vision as everything faded…

oooooooooooooooo

Inside his head, Rush was having real difficulty keeping even a semblance of calm. After the Lord had collapsed, everything started to move very quickly. Both Rush and the young Lord had been carted up to the castle, soldiers struggling to disperse the worried crowds.

Once there, healers had converged on the mitra, while Rush had been taken down into the bowels of the castle and dumped in a dark, cramped cell. Before they left him however someone had taken a swab of the inside of his mouth.

Presumably it was in the hope of identifying what he'd 'poisoned' their Lord with, showing no apparent regard towards the fact that if it _had_ been poison, he'd be affected by it as well… Not, now that he'd thought about it, that they'd be able to tell because of his current paralysis…

Trapped like this, with no way out, it was only a matter of time before someone realised what he was, and when that happened, who knows what they'd do to him… There was a chance they'd just kill him, but it was much more likely that he'd be locked up and 'studied', experimented on to try and figure out how he worked.

He knew that's what they had done to countless other Remnants, the more animalistic kind they called 'therioid types', and honestly he'd rather die than suffer a life of experimentation.

Unable to express the feelings that ran circles in his head, he could only lie on the cold stone floor, breath coming too fast and throat tight with fear. He could still feel Valeria Heart's power, a steel band that constricted his core and blocked his senses. Paralysed like this, he could only rely on hearing, scent and limited touch to tell him of his surroundings.

The worst part was that he couldn't :_feel_: the people (or lack) around him. He couldn't reach out and sense them, couldn't :_seetouchsmelltaste_: the delicate, multihued colours and patterns of energy that had been a constant in his life. He couldn't even feel Valeria Heart really, just the leaden weight of it's power like a vice around his heart.

He was so used to the sensations of life flowing around him that the sudden loss was like being struck blind and deaf. The lack of sensation, the feeling of being horribly _alone_ was almost more than he could bear.

oooooooooooo

Meanwhile, Pagus was faced with a bit of a conundrum. The healers had examined Lord David and could find nothing wrong with him, aside from the fact that he was unconscious. There were no signs of any harm done to his body aside from the small wounds on his hand, and his condition was perfectly stable.

For all intents and purposes, he just appeared to be in a deep sleep. He didn't seem to be in any pain, in fact, he actually seemed to be benefiting from whatever this was. The long standing tension in his muscles had vanished, and as they found out later, his blood chemistry had altered slightly, showing his body was producing higher amounts of various beneficial hormones and chemical compounds.

They had taken a blood sample to compare it to the swab they had obtained from the young man, but were unable to find any harmful substances. What they _did_ find baffled them. The swab had wielded the largest amounts of the mystery substance, which they had tested and found to be unlike any poison they had come across before. Pagus had examined the results over and over, but had not been able to make any headway.

Left with so many questions, the only thing they could do was wait for Lord David to wake, and interrogate the boy when Valeria Heart released it's hold on him.

oooooooooooooo

More than halfway across the continent, a servant hurried down a long dark corridor, a sealed letter and a visistone gripped tightly in her trembling hands. Both had arrived only minutes before, brought by a long distance messenger hawk, with strict instructions to be brought directly to the master.

Coming to a set of large wooden double doors, the servant knocked timidly, waiting for the harsh voice of her master to allow her within. Her whole attention fixed on the door, she didn't notice a shape within the shadows moving towards her, nor hear the faint whisper of cloth over stone.

Just before the figure reached her, the door opened and a voice bade her enter. Scurrying inside, the servant jumped slightly, sure she had heard a faint growl from the darkness of the corridor. Sparing a brief glance over her shoulder at the shifting shadows, she curtsied to her master and presented the message, unable to control the tremble of her fingers.

Sparing the quivering servant girl barely a glance, her master perused the letter, sharp eyes quickly skimming the contents. Seeing her master's face darken in anger, the girl shivered, hoping he wouldn't take his rage out on her. After all, it wouldn't be the first time she'd received a beating just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Eyes fixed on the floor, the girl missed the way her master's anger faded slightly, turning contemplative instead as he removed a piece of cloth from the envelope. Unfolding it, he stared inscrutably at the smear of dried blood on the cloth, glittering gold in the candlelight.

Glancing up at the servant, the man studied her for a moment, taking in her slight figure. She couldn't be more than fourteen at the most. His grip tightening on the letter and visistone, her master's eyes flicked over to the door, an unhappy, almost indecisive look on his face.

Looking down at the items in his hands, the man's expression hardened. Gesturing for the girl to leave with a quick flick of his wrist, he turned to set up the visistone, waiting for the door to close before viewing its contents.

Out in the corridor, the servant girl breathed a quiet sigh of relief, before turning away from the door… and walking straight into someone's chest. Stifling a squeak of surprise, the girl jumped backwards, hurried apologies spilling from her lips.

Hearing a rather sinister sounding chuckle from the figure, she looked up, not sure what to expect, but what she did see made the words die on her tongue, an involuntary flush of heat suffusing her face. The man she had walked into was quite tall, and very well built, the tight white and grey jacket he wore hiding nothing, muscles clearly visible beneath the cloth.

Underneath the open jacket was a low cut white silk vest, showing all of his thick, muscular neck, and a good portion of his smooth toned chest. Eyes drifting across the unusual symbol of a striking white serpent on either side of his jacket, her eyes shot up to his face when he sniggered lightly, obviously amused by her flustered state.

Taking in his face she felt her blush drain away, leaving her face pale with apprehension. His face was just as handsome as the rest of him, classical masculine features, a strong, defined jaw coupled with dark brown hair slicked back and tied in a low ponytail.

All of it gave him a roguish, devil-may-care charm, but his eyes were what stopped her cold. His eyes were glacial chips of vibrant blue ice that reflected nothing but malice and ill intent.

Eyes focused on the floor, the girl tried to slip past him, apologising for blocking his path, but the man didn't seem interested in her words, shifting so that she couldn't pass him. Looking up in confusion, the servant girl couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped her. The man's eyes were… glowing, icy blue orbs of light which seemed to make the shadows around them even darker, transforming his face into a nightmarish visage.

Stepping back until her searching hands met the door, she felt desperately for the handle, her mind flashing back to all those rumours of servants going missing in the dead of night, some just disappearing, but others found later on, ripped to pieces.

Just as her hand found the doorknob, his hand shot out and grasped her wrist, easily pulling her away from the door, turning and shoving her violently against the stone wall. Before she could scream, his other hand was there, squeezing her throat until she could barely draw breath, her one free hand scrabbling ineffectually against his wrist.

_**(Warning Start!)**_

Pressing the full length of his body against hers, he leant in and sniffed her hair, nose brushing against her ear. Shaking in fear, she let out a barely heard sob, writhing against his crushing grip, her fear mounting when one of his legs pushed between hers, his arousal clearly felt.

Unexpectedly, a jolt of pain shot through her ear, and she jumped, feeling something wet trickle down from damaged skin, only a moment later to feel heat and wetness surround the throbbing tip.

Shuddering in revulsion, she realised he had bitten her ear, harshly enough to make it bleed, and was now licking up the blood, sucking on the wound he'd made.

Grabbing a handful of his hair, she yanked, hoping to make him release her, but all she got was an amused rumble, feeling the vibrations through his jacket. Pulling away from her ear, he turned and looked her straight in the eye, her heart quailing in her breast as he grinned, unnaturally sharp teeth bared in a hungry, predatory smile.

Watching as his tongue flicked out to lick away a drop of blood at the corner of his mouth, (_her_ blood, something in her whispered) she felt almost hypnotised, paralysed by her own terror. Not noticing when the pressure on her throat eased up, she almost missed it when he spoke, his rough baritone a low croon that made her skin crawl.

"Heh, looks like I got a nice catch this time, young, sweet… mmm, _very _sweet. After I'm done, I think I'll just eat you up myself. If I shared you with the others, there wouldn't be anything left for me, you're just…too…_tasty_."

While he was talking, the hand at her neck had released her, drifting down to capture her free hand, encircling her wrist, slowly pulling it up to their faces. Unable to tear away from those chilling eyes, she didn't register the movement until her arm was right beside his face, turned so that the softer underside was facing him. Angling his head, he breathed in the enticing aroma of young flesh, lips twitching back in a teeth bearing grin.

"In fact, I think I'll have a little taste now, just a snack, before we get going…"

_**(Warning End!)**_

In the room she had left not long ago, the man who was her master heard her screams, along with other less savoury noises, meaty thumps, wet ripping sounds and guttural groans of pleasure, and shuddered in disgust.

If he went out there, he could stop it easily, but he did nothing, knowing very well the needs of the creatures he had created. Ultimately, the creature's satisfaction and loyalty were worth far more to him than a single, or even a dozen servants' lives. Far better that they sate their unnatural hunger with easily replaceable serfs, than highly trained men he needed for his plans.

Turning back to the visistone, he frowned as he watched a slim figure bathed in green light and moving with unnatural speed swiftly dispose of the hired mercenaries he'd sent after the Honeywell heir. Lifting the piece of cloth that came with the visistone and letter he tilted it so that the golden flecks shone in the lamp light.

"It seems that my trap was not as effective as I thought, one disobedient little pup has eluded my executioners… No matter, it will be found soon enough, and then..."

Turning to the large fireplace burning brightly a few feet away, he smiled, a small unsettling twitch of the lips, and tossed the rag into the fire, a red glow that was not from any flame dancing in his eyes as he watched the cloth burn, seeming almost to twist and writhe in agony as it was consumed…

oooooooooooooo

Hours later, deep in the bowels of the fortress, a door slammed open with such force that one of the hinges broke with a whining snap. Striding through it in a positively foul mood came a tall white furred Sovani, long tapered ears pressed flat against his skull and a disgusted snarl on his face. Before he could even close the door, a quiet voice cut through his angry thoughts.

"Snievan, I take it Young has found some way to get under your skin again, and is gloating about it as usual?"

Twitching in surprise, the Sovani turned to the source of the voice, his snarl bearing long fangs as he glared at the other occupant of the room. A growl evident in his tone, Snievan fought the urge to hiss at the other, who appeared to be a middle aged male mitra wearing a long white robe with a striking serpent motif on the back. Appeared, being the appropriate word.

"Milton, leave _now_, and keep Young away from me if he values his worthless hide. If I find his leftovers lying in the common room one more time…"

Here the sovani's hands curled into tight fists, claws threatening to break skin.

"He didn't even have the sense to kill it before he started, and the mess it made is deplorable."

Realising he was actually _explaining_ himself to the other male, the Sovani scowled before gesturing curtly for Milton to leave. With a neutral expression that surely masked irritation, the sword master bowed his head at the Sovani, collected his things and swept out of the room.

Normally the man was one of the easiest to be around, but right now Snievan didn't want to be calmed, as childish as it sounded. He didn't understand Young at all, the man was vulgar, and the way he ate was just so… messy. A bit of target practice should relieve some frustration. Especially if he imagined Young's filthy face on the targets…

oooooooooooooooo

Back in Athlum, Torgal had received all the reports from the guards and taken statements from the Warrior's Honour staff and the young Irina Marshal. The accounts were quite contradictory to what they had been expecting. The bartender had been his usual flamboyant self and didn't have a bad word to say, but the guards that had been assigned to observe the boy had also given positive accounts.

Rather than endeavour to be unseen the boy had been wandering about in full view, very much not what he expected from a possible thief or even an assassin.

The boy's things had also been retrieved from his room, and little indicated he was anything more than a traveller. Though interestingly all his possessions seemed very new, and the money pouch they removed from him was surprisingly full...

Putting that to one side for now, he decided to visit the prisoner, mostly to get a personal impression of him, as the previous hubbub hadn't afforded him the opportunity of more than a quick glimpse. Descending into the dungeon, Torgal nodded to the guards posted at various points and stepped into the detention area proper.

Prowling through the cell lined corridors, he stopped dead in his tracks as he got within twenty feet of the occupied cell, fur bristling as he picked up a scent that made his hackles rise. Ears pinned back by reflex, he swallowed the growl building in his chest and stalked forward, just far enough to see the slumped shape of the still immobilised boy.

Glaring for a moment, he proceeded to do a complete circuit of the cell block, frequently scenting the air just to be sure that it was the boy's cell it was coming from. Striding back to the guards he signalled them to come, telling them to stay either side of the door while he checked the boy for any suspicious objects.

Unlocking the door, he crouched and rolled the boy onto his back, mentally noting the lack of any care or consideration given by the guards who had put the boy here. He might have been a _suspected_ criminal, but he was still a person, and deserving of better treatment than he'd been given.

Doing a thorough search of his clothes turned up nothing, yet the smell of Remnant still permeated the air, very different from the metallic scent of Valeria Heart. It was warmer, softer and more organic, but without the musky animal smell of a therioid Remnant. As the source of the scent appeared to be the boy, Torgal was left utterly perplexed, and it wasn't a feeling he liked.

Having noticed the boy flinch slightly during his search, he put the perplexing scent to the back of his mind for the moment, checking the young mitra for any injuries. Finding nothing other than a slightly strange bruise on his side that appeared to have some characteristics of a burn, he lifted him onto the small cot in the cell. Noting he was also a bit heavier than the Sovani was expecting, he arranged him so he was lying on his uninjured side to prevent any choking in the event he was sick.

Leaving and locking the cell again, Torgal strode out of the dungeons, planning on fetching a healer at the next available opportunity to see to than odd bruise, as it still looked quite painful.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Tada! Another chapter done. As always, any reviews are greatly appreciated, and feel free to ask any questions that crop up.


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